Arashi Ni Narimasu
by Medieval Liz
Summary: Fenton thought they were safe. A hidden danger comes with a series of spring storms for the Hardy family, but not all storms happen in nature. When the storms pass, who will be left standing?
1. Vulnerability

**Title: **Arashi Ni Narimasu (The Storm is Coming)

**Author:** Medieval Liz

**Rating: **T (Contains content not suitable for children.)

**A/N: **This story was started as a favour for a friend and has developed into something of its own. It does not take place in my other AU and is a bit of an experiment for me. I had originally posted a different beginning chapter, but wasn't too happy with that as a starting chapter so went back to the drawing board. Those who read it, please give this version a chance. Those who didn't, I hope you enjoy this one.

Posting will be sporadic for the time being as I'm still working on the rewrite of "Lie to Me" and am 7 months pregnant. My writing creativity is lacking at the best of times and having Baby Brain doesn't help things either. It's my hope that, if I can bounce between the two different stories, I can at least get a little creative and get one of these stories done.

Those who know I also write at the HDA website, note that this story will not be submitted there as it will not meet the site's criteria.

I think that's all my notes for this chapter. Enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **The usual: I do not own the Hardy Boys. It's just a little fun.

**Chapter One: Vulnerability**

The black clouds rolled in over the horizon, the wind whipping down the quiet residential street, and the storm shutters on the windows rattled against the assault. It was to be a powerful storm, one that made Fenton Hardy grateful that he had arrived home before the clouds broke. 

The sedan pulled into the garage and he parked carefully beside his teen sons' motorbikes. He was glad to see that, wherever Frank and Joe were, they had the forethought to take the van they shared. He also noted that Laura's Volkswagen was not in its regular spot in the garage. 

A habit borne after years of investigating, Fenton couldn't help but wonder where his family was at nearly nine o'clock on a weeknight in this kind of weather. It was a fleeting thought that he pushed aside as he retrieved his luggage from the trunk of his car. There were a hundred possibilities and, after spending the last six weeks in Tokyo for the State Department, he was in no hurry to go looking for a new mystery to solve.

As it was, the answer was to be found in the kitchen as he entered through the garage door.

Gertrude Hardy was removing several loaves of bread from the oven. "How was the game, Laura? Oh, Fenton! I thought you were Laura coming home."

"Hello Gert," he greeted his sister with a quick kiss on the cheek as he passed. He put his suitcase down in the hallway and came back into the kitchen. "Joe had a basketball game tonight?"

The older woman nodded and tipped the bread pans over a cooling rack. "You should have called, Fenton. We weren't expecting you back until the weekend. Laura would have happily met you at the airport, and if not I most certainly would have."

Fenton shook his head as he filled a glass from the cupboard with some water. "We were able to get things wrapped up in Tokyo sooner than we anticipated, so I caught an earlier flight. And beside," he glanced out the kitchen window as a flash of lightning lit up the sky, "I wouldn't have wanted either of you out in this weather."

"Well, Joseph's game should have ended by now so I'm expecting Laura anytime." She placed the dirty pans into the dishwasher and held the door for Fenton while he finished his water and put his glass in the appliance. 

"And depending on the outcome," he said with a chuckle, "we may not see the boys until closer to midnight."

Gertrude clucked her tongue disapprovingly. "Inexcusable, and on a school night no less."

"I seem to recall, sister mine, a certain someone sneaking in through her bedroom on several occasion when our athletic teams did well."

"Such accusation, Fenton," she protested, though she could not banish the sly gleam shining in her hazel eyes. "And without a shred of evidence. You couldn't prove it then, and I dare you to prove it now."

"Gert, you will forever be the one that got away I'm afraid." Fenton laughed lightly again. "But if you will excuse me, I'd like to freshen up from the flight before my darling wife gets home."

"Leave your suitcase, Fenton, I'll take it down to the laundry for you." 

"Thank you, Gert."

HBHBHB

"One point," Joe griped, for the hundredth time, as he opened the kitchen door for his mother. "A few more seconds and the game would have been ours."

Laura consoled her youngest son. "Bayport High has a very good team, but even last year's state champions can't win them all."

"We can try!"

Fenton and Gertrude looked up from their tea as the pair entered the kitchen. Fenton smiled affectionately at the sight of his wife and son. "I take it our boys didn't fare so well?"

"Not as well as some would have liked," Laura stepped away from Joe and wrapped her husband in a warm embrace. "Welcome home, love."

Joe draped his gym back over the back of a chair. "Glad to have you home, Dad, but I thought you were in Tokyo until Sunday."

With a kiss to her soft cheek, Fenton pulled Laura onto his lap and held her like he never wanted to let go. "I got back about half an hour ago. Just missed being home."

"Then don't stay away so long next time," Gertrude reprimanded gently as she picked up their empty cups. 

"Or take us all with you," Joe added as he sat in an empty chair, "And not just Frank."

"He's eighteen," Fenton pointed out. "And I only required his help for a few days in the beginning of the investigation."

"Which he still won't tell me about," Joe pouted.

"Like he was told not to," his father retorted.

"So, the game?" Gertrude interrupted, changing the subject before things got out of hand.

"We lost," the teen sighed dejectedly.

"By only one point," Laura pointed out proudly. 

"That makes it worse!" 

"How is it worse?" Gertrude asked as she started the now full dishwasher and leaned against the counter. "One would think losing by such a small margin would be an accomplishment to be proud of."

Joe looked over his shoulder at his aunt. "I'll remember that next time Mom beats you a Hearts," he teased.

Laughter rang through the kitchen and Laura turned to her husband. "Where's your suitcase? I'll get it unpacked for you."

"Already started, Laura," Gertrude playfully smacked Joe on the shoulder. "I'll be putting the load I started into the dryer before I call it a night. Now, don't you have homework you should be finishing, young man?"

"Would that be your subtle way of telling me to give the parental units a little private time?" Joe sighed and got out of his chair, politely ignoring the blushes on his parent's faces. "But you're not wrong. I was hoping Frank would be back by now to help me with my last few calculus equations."

"Is he driving the van home from the school?"

"He wasn't at the game," Laura answered her husband as she watched Joe grab an apple from the fridge. "Although I thought he would have been to give you a ride, Joe."

"He was supposed to be," Joe admitted around a mouthful of fruit. "But he was studying at Java Bytes with Tony and few others before the game. I tried him on his cell, but he's probably got it turned off and lost track of time. You know how he gets when he's in study mode."

"The rest of the world disappears," Fenton said with a smile. "We'll give him a little more time before we release the hounds."

"Sadly, the calculus will not wait." Joe gave his aunt and mother both a quick kiss on the cheek and squeezed his father's shoulder. "Glad to have you home, Dad. See you all in the morning." 

Followed by a chorus of 'goodnights', Joe made his way up to his room.

His gem-like eyes fell onto the school books on his desk and, feeling no great desire to crack them open without Frank's help, he bypassed them all together and went into the bathroom the brothers' shared. Tossing the apple core into the trashcan, he started the shower and quickly stripped off his clothes and stepped into the stream of hot water.

Tension fled from his muscles as the water massaged his shoulders and neck. The showers at the gym were fine for getting the sweat from a person, but did little to relieve the strain one put their body through. The pulsating showerhead Frank had installed, during the fall's football season, did wonders for that. 

Only after the water started to run cool did Joe finally turn off the shower and wrap a thick towel around his waist. Oblivious to the water dripping off the rest of him, Joe poked his head into Frank's room and grumbled to himself when he realized he was on his own to finish his calculus homework. 

Going back to his room, and donning a pair of underwear and pyjama pants, Joe pushed his gym bag – which his Aunt undoubtedly brought up from where he left it in the kitchen – from his chair and said at his desk. He glanced at his clock, which read a few minutes after ten, and reluctantly got to work.

HBHBHB

The numbers on the clock next to the bed were blurred, but after a few seconds Joe was able to focus on them. Three twenty-seven. Why was his alarm going off four hours early? No, that wasn't his alarm. It was his cell phone that was sitting in its charger. Reaching over the clock, he picked up the phone and glanced at the display. He didn't recognize the number and turned off the ringer, hoping it was just a wrong number.

Closing his eyes he laid his head back onto his pillow and was just dozing off again when he heard rapid footsteps running down the hall outside his door. He was vaguely aware of the door to his brother's room opening as his phone started vibrating, indicating he had another call. 

It was from the same number.

Lifting himself onto his elbow his answered the phone just as his own door burst open and his father turned on the light. 

"Hello?"

"Joe?"

"Joe, have you heard from-"

"Frank!"

Fenton was across the room, and beside the bed, in two long strides. Joe help up his hand to stop whatever his dad was going to say and focussed on the phone. The voice on the other end had been faint, pained, but he had recognized it in an instant. 

"Frank, you there?"

He could hear laboured breathing over the line and his heart leapt into his throat. The alarmed expression on his father's face wasn't helping calm him any either. "Frank?"

"… Joe?"

Tossing his bedding aside, he sat up. "Frank, where are you?" There was no immediate answer, and for a moment Joe feared he'd lost the connection. "Frank!"

"I don't know," was the slurred answer. "I can't… think… feel funny…"

Joe glanced at the display on his phone and bolted for his desk. "Stay with me Frank," he commanded into the mouthpiece as he scribbled the number onto a piece of paper. He handed the paper to Fenton who immediately dialled another number on the cordless phone that Joe just noticed was in his father's palm.

"Keep talking to me, Frank. Okay?"

"…m'tired."

Joe noticed his mother standing anxiously in his doorway but forced himself to concentrate on his brother. "Focus for me, Frank. Look around you. Tell me what you see."

"Dark… a bed… two… motel m'be… blood-"

"Blood!" Joe exclaimed before he could stop himself. His mother and father both stared at him wide eyed. Laura had gone pale and her hands flew up to her mouth. Gertrude appeared behind her and put a comforting arm around her shoulders. Fenton went back to his phone call, talking more frantically. Joe could hear him, but he was too distracted to comprehend what he was saying.

"Frank?"

"So tired…" He sounded further away now.

"Frank?" 

There was no answer. 

"Frank!"

He risked a glance at the phone display. The call was still connected, which he didn't know was a good thing or not. He looked at the others, his eyes finding his Dad's, and shook his head. "He's not answering anymore."

"Don't hang up," Fenton snapped and pushed past his wife and sister. 

Joe handed his cell phone to his mother, "Keep talking to him," and hurried into his closet. 

"Frank? It's Mom, sweetie. Talk to me please?"

The pleading in his mother's voice was too much and he felt his own fears threaten to overwhelm him. His hands were shaking as he reached for a pair of jeans and he took a shuddered breath in an attempt to calm himself. 

Blood. Frank had said there was blood and the way he had been talking had Joe worried more than he had been in a very long time. Was Frank hurt? And just how badly? What had happened tonight?

Shaking off his dread as much as he could, Joe quickly dressed and stepped out of the closet just as his father came back to the room, also dressed. Laura had tears in her eyes and it was apparent to Joe that she had not received any response from her eldest son.

"Sam traced the number," Fenton explained to his fearful family as Joe took the phone back from his mother. "It's not exact, but it's an extension to the Swiss Motel just east of Riverhead on Route 25."

"Frank thought he was in a motel room," Joe told them.

"Sam's calling the State Troopers and will meet us out there. We can be there in fifteen minutes," Fenton gave Laura a reassuring hug. "I'll bring him home, Laura."

"I know," she answered confidently, despite the quiver in her voice.

Joe followed his father down the stairs and out to the garage. He was barely seated in the passenger seat before Fenton was backing his car out of the driveway. With a squeal of tires, the sedan was speeding down High Street and on its way out of town.

For a few minutes, neither spoke. Joe tried several times to get something from Frank. There was no answer, but he knew the connection was still good as he could hear other noises from wherever Frank was. Frightfully aware he was going to get nothing else from his brother, Joe turned his attention to his grim faced father.

"You knew," he stated as calmly as he could. "Before I answered the phone, you were checking on him."

Knuckles turned white as Fenton gripped the steering wheel even tighter. "The phone," he answered through grit teeth. "I got a call asking me if I knew where my son was. Then they hung up. I knew you were already in bed so-"

"So you checked on Frank." Joe finished for him.

The car was quiet again for a moment before Fenton spoke. "Are you and Frank working on something I need to be aware of?"

Joe shook his head. "No, not since before you left for Tokyo."

"And my plate has been clean, except for this assignment from the State Department which no one knew the details about. Not even Sam."

"Someone from before-" Joe cut himself off as he heard something faintly through the phone. "Sirens. Sounds like the state police are there."

The car leapt forward as Fenton floored the accelerator. "We're not far behind."

"Hang on, Frank, we're coming," Joe spoke into the phone, hoping that his brother would hear him.

HBHBHB

There were a half dozen squad cars parked haphazardly outside the motel office and Joe wasn't sure if he was comforted or not by the presence of the Riverhead ambulance. A couple of EMTs were waiting outside their rig, the gurney already unloaded and prepped for them to go should they be called.

His father's partner, Sam Radley, was waiting next to the paramedics and noted the arrival of the Hardy sedan. He jogged over to them as the pair exited the car. "They've conducted a search of the occupied room," the man explained to the anxious father and son. He motioned to several of the lit windows where curious faces could be seen peering outside at the commotion. "They're keeping everyone inside while they do a room to room search of the other rooms."

"How many?" Fenton asked automatically.

"Two floors, three wings, about a hundred and fifty rooms," Sam answered. "Thirty occupied with registered guests."

Unable to hear anything over the phone now, beside the commotion of the police search, Joe reluctantly closed and pocketed his cell phone. "That could take too long, and it's been long enough already."

"It'll go quicker," Sam assured them both, "Now that they're just doing spot checks of the rooms."

"How long have they been at it?" Fenton asked, watching as two uniformed officers came around the corner of the second floor and kicked the first door they came to open. They peered inside with their flashlights for only a few seconds before moving on to the next door.

"A few minutes. They've got three teams-"

"We need the medics!" 

Joe snapped his head around to the direction of the shout, seeing an officer on the ground floor waving to the paramedics who were already on the move. Joe thought he would have been quicker, but Fenton was right behind the EMTs as they rounded the corner and followed the officer to a room about halfway down.

The trooper allowed the medics into the room but held out his arms, stopping Fenton and Joe from going any further. 

"Please," Fenton pleaded with the man, "that's my son!"

Even from a few yards away from the open doorway, Joe could detect the coppery smell of blood. The lights were turned on and he shifted a couple steps to the side, allowing himself a better view into the room.

He regretted it almost instantly.

Both double beds were covered with crimson stains, as were the walls and floors. He couldn't see past the medics, but in their frenzied movements he could make out a body lying partially off the furthest bed. He felt his father standing beside him, a trembling arm working its way across his shoulders, and drawing him into an attempt to comfort him.

They watched with baited breath for what seemed like hours before one of the medics turned toward the opened door. "We got a strong pulse, and can't find any sign of trauma. Whatever happened here, this isn't his blood."

"Oh god," Joe felt his body go numb with relief.

"We need to get him to Riverhead Regional, find out why he's not regaining consciousness."

The trooper motioned for Fenton. "Your partner couldn't tell us much, Mr Hardy, and I understand you'll want to go with your son, but do you have any idea what this means?"

Fenton stepped away from Joe and glanced inside the room where the officer was gesturing. 

Joe had never seen his father look as scared as he did right then. He moved to stand behind the older man and looked over his shoulder, to a series of symbols that were painted in black on the opposite wall from the beds. It was oriental writing, of that much Joe could be certain, butits meaning was lost to Joe. 

By the expression on his father's face, however, it wasn't lost to him.

"Dad?"

"Go with your brother to the hospital," the tone of Fenton's voice left no room for arguing.

Looking at his brother's pale face as Frank was wheeled past on the gurney, there was no argument to be had. For Joe, at that moment nothing was more important that finding out what happened to Frank. 

The why of it would come later.

* * *


	2. A Mother's Nightmare

**A/N:** You can all thank Red Hardy for the prompt update. As I've told her several times, her reviews are the cure for writers block! A person can get addicted to her reviews. And thus, my housework has not been done today and I have another brief chapter to add already.

_Red_: I'm pleased you enjoy my take on Aunt Gertrude. I remember several of the Blue Spines where she was a little more easy going andfelt she deserved a break. Too often she's portrayed as a bitter old battle axe, and that's just not fitting a Hardy in my opinion.

_UKFan_: It took me nearly two years to get my brain even partially back from my first run through "Baby Ate My Brain", and I'm trying to work through it this time. Results are a little sketchy at times, but not having to work while pregnant this time around is helping significantly.

_FrankJoe_: My problem is sometimes I put too much dialogue and not enough description. I have issues finding the perfect balance between the two. So kick me in the butt if I start getting dialogue heavy.

_KCS_: If you thought that didn't sound good, this chapter's no better. You have been warned! 

Okay, enough stalling, here's the next chapter!

* * *

**Chapter Two: A Mother's Nightmare  
**

The rain was coming down hard when the Volkswagen pulled in behind the ambulance. It was lighter than it had been when Laura and Gertrude had left the Hardy home, but the early morning sun was still having a hard time penetrating the storm clouds that hung in the sky. 

A single floored building, the Riverhead Regional Hospital was smaller than what Laura had come to expect whenever she received those dreaded late night phone calls. Between her husband and sons, with their cases and sports, she was on a first name basis with most of the emergency staff at Bayport General. 

Although she and her sister-in-law had been anticipating this phone call, hearing Joe telling her which hospital her eldest son was being transported to was not any easier. In fact, it had been worse. From the moment Fenton had leapt from their bed, to the call from Joe, her imagination had played one fear after another in her mind. 

"Go inside, Laura," Gertrude instructed from her seat behind the wheel, "I'll park the car."

"Thank you, Gertrude," Laura's hand trembled as she reached for the handle and she hesitated. 

A strong, comforting, touch of a hand on her shoulder eased her somewhat. "Joseph said he wasn't hurt," the older woman said gently.

"I know," she answered breathlessly. "But what if they were wrong?"

"Then Frank is going to need his mother, isn't he?"

Laura reached up and squeezed the hand on her shoulder, silently thanking the other woman for the moment she needed to gather herself together. "I'll see you inside."

Extracting herself from the car, Laura used the precious few steps to the Hospital emergency entrance to calm the last of her ragged nerves. Beneath the surface she was a mess, but as she approached the nurse at the triage desk she was the picture of collected cool. "I'm Laura Hardy. My son, Frank, was brought in a little while ago."

The nurse nodded and motioned behind her to a corridor of curtained off areas. "Cubicle three. Your other son is with him."

No sooner had she stepped around the desk than she saw Joe come out into the corridor from between closed curtain. They closed the distance to each other calmly, but the ferocity in which her golden hair son embraced her revealed his relief at her presence. There was no need for words between the two, and after a moment Joe led her into the cubicle. 

Were it not for their being in a Hospital, she could have easily believed Frank was just sleeping. His coloring was a little pale and his breathing deeper than she would have expected, but otherwise he looked fine. The hospital staff had replaced his clothing with a hospital gown and a blanket had been pulled up to his midsection to keep him warm. 

Laura lowered the bed's railing and lifted herself into a sitting position on the mattress next to Frank. She took his hand in hers, squeezing it gently, and brushed his hair away from his face. After a moment of just drinking in the sight of him, she turned her attention to Joe who leaned against the opposite wall.

"Has the doctor seen him yet?"

"When he was first brought in," Joe confirmed. "The nurses just let me back here a few minutes ago and they tell me the doctor's waiting for some test results before he comes to talk to us."

"Good, good," Laura absently nodded her approval and looked around, suddenly noticing the absence of someone else. "Where's your father?"

"He stayed at the Motel with Sam and the cops."

"He did what!" Her voiced raised slightly with the exclamation. "Did he say why?"

Joe shook his head. "He only told me to come here with Frank, not like I would have done anything else. Mom," he said with some hesitation, "he was spooked. I mean, really scared. I've never seen him like that before."

As upset as she was that Fenton hadn't come with their son to the hospital, Joe's observation alleviated it somewhat. It would have taken something drastic to keep Fenton away at a time like this. "How do you mean?"

"He got a look at something inside the room they found Frank in and freaked." 

"Did you see what it was?"

"Mrs Hardy?"

Laura glanced over her shoulder at the middle aged man that pushed the curtain aside as he entered the cubicle. "Yes."

"I'm Dr Blair," he introduced himself as she reluctantly slid from her place next to Frank, giving the physician her complete attention.

"What happened to my son, Doctor?"

"Physically, he's just fine," He stated flatly. "There was no head trauma, no visible injuries of any kind."

"Then why isn't he conscious?"

The doctor moved to the bed where he sat himself on the corner of the foot of the bed. "We ran a tox screen and it came back positive for gamma-hydroxybutyrate, GHB. The body does produce miniscule amounts naturally, but the dosage found in your son's blood was obviously administered at some point in the last twelve hours. I'm more inclined to say two or three hours but, given the situation as explained to me by the Paramedics and Police, I wouldn't rule out multiple dosages.

"GHB, I'm afraid," the man continued cautiously, "Is illegal in this country and is commonly referred to by the media as a 'date-rape-drug'."

"Rape!" Laura and Joe cried simultaneously. Neither wanted to even consider the possibility, but Laura was the one to voice their newfound fear. "Was he-"

Dr Blair raised a hand in gentle interruption. "We ran a sexual assault kit as soon as we got the tox results and everything game back negative."

"So he wasn't…" Joe couldn't bring himself to even say it.

A comforting smile turned the doctor's lips. "No, he wasn't."

"Thank God," Laura breathed, unable to hide the tremors in her hand as she pressed it against her suddenly rapidly beating heart.

"I won't lie to you, Mrs Hardy," Dr Blair continued seriously. "Your son is still in a precarious position despite the prognosis so far. GHB is a depressant than affects the central nervous system."

"What does that mean?" There was no hiding the dread that crept into her voice.

"That means it makes you sleepy, and slows down your breathing and heart rate. Dangerously so, in some cases, depending on the dose and how it was administered. In essence, Mrs Hardy, you son has been put into a coma which we cannot predict when, or if, he will come out of."

The silence that filled the cubicle was overwhelming. The illusion of calm Laura was projecting crumbled and she instinctively reached out to grab hold of Frank's hand again. Joe's strong arms were holding on to her in an instant and she was vaguely aware of the Doctor stepping away from the bed.

"I'd like to monitor him for a couple of hours," Dr Blair continued to explain. "Normally, the affects only last a few hours. If he doesn't show signs of regaining consciousness by then I'd like to make arrangements to have him transferred to Bayport General. It's a larger facility and is more equipped to run the necessary tests."

Laura couldn't find her voice. There were a dozen things she wanted to ask, answers that she desperately needed to hear, but the fear that Frank might never wake stole the very breath from her.

Luckily, she was not alone.

"He could still just wake up, right" Joe asked, his voice threaded with concern for his brother.

"That's our hope," Dr Blair nodded. "Because GHB breaks down so rapidly in the blood stream, it's hard to determine just how much he has been given. It is encouraging that there was no alcohol in his blood stream, which is the most common means of dispensing these kinds of drugs. Alcohol can sometime increase the potency of the drugs and subsequently the risks."

"Is there anything we can do?" Ever the proactive one, Joe's question brought a swell of pride to Laura's panicking heart. When if came to his family, he was incapable of just sitting back and waiting.

"Talk to him, touch him, let him know that you're here and that he's somewhere safe." Dr Blair affirmed. "If – when he does regain consciousness, he probably will have little to no memory of recent events. He'll most likely be disorientated and anything you can do to ease his confusion will speed up recovery."

The doctor excused himself, assuring them someone would be along in a little while to check Frank's vitals, and left the family in silence.

Laura's heart was aching. 

_Frank's strong,_ she told herself, _a fighter. They found him, he wasn't hurt, just sleeping. He'll pull through this like he's pulled through everything else life has thrown at him. Knock him down and he comes back stronger than ever. This time will be no different. Just be strong for him until he can do it himself._

Easier said than done, unfortunately.

Removing herself from Joe's arms, she positioned herself back onto the edge of her other son's hospital bed. She leaned in, kissing him softly on the forehead. "It's over now, sweetheart. I'm here, and so is Joe, and we're not going anywhere. And from what I've heard, your brother is in danger of flunking Calculus if you don't wake up and help him."

"Hey!" Joe gaped at his mother in surprise.

Laura looked over at Joe and smiled at him teasingly. Some of the tension left the room and the pair laughed softly. It didn't last long, though, as Laura's laugh caught in her throat with a fearful sob. Her composure fell away as the tears she'd been holding in gave way. 

With one hand gripped tightly around Frank's, Laura let herself be enveloped in Joe's arms again. He was whispering in her ear that everything would be okay, that Frank would wake up in no time and admonish them for doubting him. It was everything she wanted to believe, but too many times she had been faced with this situation. 

She knew, sooner or later, the Hardy luck was going to run out.


	3. Sins of the Father

**A/N: **For some reason or another, this story is flowing significantly faster than I anticipated. Maybe the insomnia I'm suffering lately has something to do with it. I have more time to actually write. Although cleaning it up come morning is always something else... Anywho, this chapter answers a lot of questions, but never fear there is still much mystery/adventure/angst/drama to come. (It also explains why the title of the story isn't in English.)

* * *

**Chapter Three: Sins of the Father**

Beyond the yellow tape that criss-crossed over the splintered doorway, the lightning flashed.

He stood in the center of the room, now that the CSI team was finished its job, taking in every grisly detail with a sever countenance. 

The telephone, left lying discarded between the two beds, had been clean of all prints. Not even Frank's on the keypad to indicate he had used it. Someone else had dialled the number to Joe's cell phone not once, but twice until the call was answered. 

The blood splattered meticulously across the wall, flawlessly displayed for the full effect, and the same crimson pooling on the bed sheets and lime green carpet, wasn't human blood at all. The best guess by the forensic analyst was that it was pig's blood, but they wouldn't know for certain until they got it to the lab in New York. 

The middle of the night phone calls, the blood stained motel room, all of it perfectly staged to send one very terrifying message.

His son was vulnerable.

And that pissed Fenton off all the more.

"Mr Hardy?"

The investigator turned at the voice and watched a man in a tailored suit duck beneath the police tape. The dark haired man was someone Fenton had thought he had seen the last of only twenty-four hours ago. The sight of him nearly sent the father over the edge. "I would like to know, Agent Phillips, how the hell they got to my son!"

Phillips drew up short, and even Fenton was surprised at the animosity that filled his voice. Still, he was not backing down and waited for the federal agent to answer. To his credit, Agent Phillips composed himself admirably. "I can assure you, every precaution was taken."

Fenton pointed to the writing on the wall. "It was not enough! I was told he would be safe, that his part in this would be kept classified!"

"And it was."

"Then how did they know!" He roared. 

"I don't know," was the reluctant admittance.

The sincerity and remorse in the man's eyes took the wind out of Fenton's sails. He felt his anger melt away, leaving behind a very frightened father. "They could have killed him, Doug."

"But they didn't," Phillips said with conviction, "and we will see to it that they don't get another chance. Say the word, and I'll have you and your family in protective custody."

Fenton nodded. "Any other case and I'd hesitate to accept, but this…" His eyes fell on the symbols. "_Deru kui wa utareru._"

Phillips followed the gaze, shaking his head slowly. "_The stake that sticks out gets hammered down._" 

"They're nothing if not eloquent, but it's still a threat against my son."

"And you." Phillips reminded him. "I'll get started on the arrangements. When do you think Frank will be ready to move?" 

A weary sigh passed his lips. "I don't know. Laura called a little while ago. The doctor's prognosis is hopeful, but there is a chance he may not ever wake up."

"Fenton, I'm so sorry."

The adrenalin keeping him on his feet was suddenly gone and slumped into a nearby chair. "It wasn't supposed to happen like this. He wasn't supposed to be in any danger. It's the only reason I allowed him to participate."

"He knew what he was getting in to," Phillips turned his head to the doorway as Sam ducked into the room.

"Still no sign of the boys' van, Fenton."

"My partner, Sam Radley," Fenton introduced the two men. "Sam, this is Agent Doug Phillips from the State Department. He was with me on the case in Tokyo."

Sam shook the man's hand cordially. "I'm assuming this has something to do with what happened there?"

Fenton looked to Phillips with an eyebrow raised in question. When the agent nodded, Fenton sighed grimly. "Close the door, Sam."

When it was done, and the two men standing found places to sit that were relatively free of the now dried blood, the room was silent for several minutes as Fenton composed himself. 

"What do you know of the Yakuza, Sam?"

"The Yakuza?" the private investigator screwed up his face as he searched his memory for the name. "Mafia organization of some kind, isn't it?"

"It's THE mafia organization," Phillips corrected. "One of the largest in the world, based primarily out of Japan."

Sam's mouth dropped open as the name came to him and he stared at Fenton incredulously. "You went up against the Japanese Mafia!"

Fenton shook his head and ran his hand unconsciously through his hair. "Not quite. Just one faction of it, and even then I wasn't naïve enough to think I could do any real damage against an clan that's been in existence since the seventeenth century."

"The State Department had received intelligence, little more than a year ago, that someone inside the US Embassy in Tokyo was using the embassy itself to smuggle large quantities of crystal methamphetamine into the US." Phillips explained quietly. "Despite our best efforts, covert and otherwise, we couldn't figure out who was behind it. We needed an outside source, and Fenton came highly recommended from President Walker himself."

"It was a very involved operation," Fenton took up the narrative. "Every detail and contingency planned for. I spent those first two weeks in Tokyo just doing the initial leg work before we even began planning. At first, we believed whoever it was had been coerced by the Sumiyoshi-kai Clan. Their territory is centered around Tokyo. However, it became apparent that we were dealing with a larger Clan, with significantly more influence in the US. We were positive it was the Yamaguchi-gumi Clan, the largest Yakuza in Japan."

"When it came down to it, however," Phillips continued, "we needed a catalyst to set everything in motion. Yet after thirteen months of intense investigations we didn't feel like we could use any of our agents. Every previous attempt had been discovered which led us to believe we had a mole inside our operation. With only three of us aware of Fenton's involvement – myself, the Director in Washington, and the President – we left it to his discretion who he brought in."

"Who you – oh god, you asked Frank!" Sam went green. 

The father nodded shame-faced, feeling the bile burn against the back of his throat at the accusation glaring at him from his partner's eyes. Sam and Ethel Radley couldn't have children of their own, and Fenton knew his partner thought of Frank and Joe akin to his own. 

"I needed someone I could trust," Fenton desperately tried to justify his decision, "Someone young enough to pass for an American student in the country illegally and willing to do anything to get back to the States. Both Frank and Joe are capable boys-"

"Yes, boys," Sam snapped angrily. "Frank had no business-" 

"He knew the risks-"

"I'm sure he did! But those boys idolize you, Fenton! They would crawl through thegates of hell if it meant working a case with you! And you pit him again the Yakuza! My god, they could have killed him!"

The room fell silent.

Fenton could no longer meet his friend's eyes and lowered his chin to his chest. Sam was right, on every point. Too often he treated his sons as equals – something he was normally proud to do – instead of the young men they were. At only eighteen years old, Frank should never have been put into a position where people as ruthless as the Yamaguchi-gumi Clan had any contact with him whatsoever.

"We were very carefully," he heard Agent Phillips telling Sam. "Frank was given an entirely new identity, erasing any connection to Fenton just to be on the safe side. And it worked. Apparently the US Ambassador has a fondness for child pornography and underage girls. The Yamaguchi-gumi exploited that and had been blackmailing him for months before he realized just how lucrative cooperating with them was for his bank account. He was making a fortune. 

"In a matter of days, Frank had a new passport and was on a plane to Maui with nearly two kilos of heroin. We were prepared though, and had Air Marshals on the plane with him. They took the drugs, the evidence we needed to start the move against the Ambassador, and had Frank disguised and sitting in first class before he was an hour out of Japan. When he landed, he was on a private plane on his way back to New York in only minutes."

Sam shook his head and looked around the room. There was no missing the accusation behind the movement. "So what went wrong?"

"That is what I intend to find out."

There was an underlying menace to Phillips statement, and it eased Fenton's mind a little. It seemed to appease Sam as well as the man calmed considerably and now turned a compassionate eye to his friend. "You're going to have to tell Laura."

"I know." Fenton dreaded that conversation. His wife was already leery of their sons' involvement in his cases, but this could be the final straw. "But later, when Frank regains consciousness and can help me explain."

A small smile crept onto Sam's lips. "Coward."

"Damn straight," Fenton returned the grin.

Agent Phillips rose from his seat. "I want to call in a team of Federal Marshals for you and your family's protection. It may take a few days to set up a safe house, especially since we don't know when Frank can be moved, so keep a vigilant eye for now. "

"Protective custody?" Sam was surprised but his expression showed his approval. "Good luck trying to convince the boys of that."

Fenton was already anticipating the fight with his younger son but, given the degree of danger posed by the Yakuza, Fenton was not going to take any chances. His cavalier thinking had gotten his family into this, and he was going to do everything in his power to keep them safe. 

"They're not going to have a choice." 


	4. A Brother's Lies

**A/N: **Sorry it's taken so long to update. Had a little more trouble with this chapter than I anticipated, and I'm still not entirely happy with it. Now that this one is done, hopefully updates will be a litle more regular. I've had a shot of inspiration in regards to my other story (Lie To Me) so I'll be bouncing between the two for the next little while. I'd like to have both stories done before my baby's born (8 weeks to go!) but I kinda doubt that. If it looks like only one will get done, I'll be focussing on Lie To Me, but I'll let you know if that's going to happen.

Enough rambling, I think. On with the chapter!!

* * *

**Chapter Four:**

The soft rap on the door jolted the youngest Hardy from the fitful sleep he had found in the chair. He was sitting up, stretching out a painful crick in his neck, when the door opened and a raven haired head peaked inside.

"Hey Tony," Joe greeted his friend.

Tony opened the door the rest of the way and stepped inside the room. "I passed your mom in the hall. She said you were in here." He glanced over at the empty bed. "Frank still with the doctor?"

Joe glanced at the clock on the wall and nodded. "Dr Bates took him for a MRI about an hour ago. I guess I dozed off."

His friend sat in the chair next to him. "You look like you could use the rest."

"Aren't you supposed to be in class right now? And didn't you have a midterm?"

"Test was first thing this morning, and I figured you could use some company." A look of guilt passed over his face. "Joe, I'm so sorry."

"Sorry for what, cutting class?" Joe chuckled softly.

"Last night," Tony leaned back in the chair, his hands clutched together in his lap, "I was the last one with Frank. I had to work the closing shift and he offered me a ride to Mr Pizza after our study session. I told him I'd walk. Maybe if I'd accepted-"

"This is not your fault," Joe assured the young man gently.

Tony sighed in frustration. "I just keep going over it in my head, again and again!"

"Did my dad talk to you already?" Joe enquired.

"Yea," the other boy nodded. "He came by the school and had the lot of us called down to the office; Me, Callie, Tim and Emily."

"I don't suppose you'd want to go over it again, would you?"

An intensity Joe hadn't seen before in his friend filled Tony's chocolate eyes. "I'd go over it a thousand times if it helps catch the _testa di cazzo _who did this to Frank."

There was a brief silence, one Joe found a little uncomfortable, before Joe cleared his throat and spoke. "So what happened? Tell me everything, no matter how insignificant it seems."

A small smile crossed the other boy's features. "You sound like your dad."

HBHBHB

"_The hybridization of one s orbital and one p orbital on a central atom gives rise to two sp orbitals. Hybridization as sp gives two orbitals, which are in a linear arrangement, that is, 180 degrees apart. An example of sp hybridization is found in HgCl2. This sp type of hybridization is the reason for the existence of the basic linear shape found for two electron pairs in the valence shell using the valence shell electron pair repulsion approach."_

_The group of teens in the corner sat in silence for a moment before a petite brunette shook her head. "I have no idea what that means."_

_They five youths laughed and several closed their books. "If I try to stuff anymore information into my head it's going to start spilling out of my ears. I think I'm beginning to forget this stuff," Tony said as he leaned back in his chair._

"_I know what you mean," the brunette, Emily, said as she drank the last of her cappuccino. "I swear I knew what it meant yesterday, and at this rate I'm going to end up flunking the class. What would possess Mrs Chomany to make a single exam worth thirty-five percent of our final mark?"_

"_Getting a perverse pleasure from seeing her students suffer nervous breakdowns?" _

"_Like you have anything to worry about, Hardy," the third boy of the group, Timothy, tossed a sugar packet at the dark haired boy sitting across from him. "There's a reason why everyone was scrambling to get a spot in your study group. You could miss every class, show up for the midterm and final, and still ace them both!"_

_Frank smirked and picked up the packet as it bounced onto the table surface. "Not even close," he shook the packet a couple of times before tearing it open and pouring the contents into his coffee. "I barely scraped a sixty on the last chapter exam."_

"_That's only because you'd spent a week globe trotting with you father," blonde haired Callie reminded him. "You know, you'd be a shoe in for valedictorian this year if you met the attendance requirement."_

"_I think I'll leave that honour to Phil," Frank sipped at his coffee and gave her a warm smile. "Or you."_

_She returned the smile and glanced at her watch. "Damn, I'm late! I'm supposed to meet Jerry at the gym before the game." She got to her feet and stuffed her books into her backpack. "Anyone want a ride?"_

"_I wouldn't mind one," Timothy gathered up his stuff as well. "My sister stole the car an hour ago."_

"_My mom's picking me up here," Emily said, flipping through her text book absently._

_Callie shouldered her pack. "You came with Frank, right Tony?"_

"_Yes," the Italian answered, "But I'm not going to the game. Mr Pizza is going to need a hand with the post game crowd so I've been called in to help cover Amanda's shift. I'm walking over in about-" he looked at the clock on the café's wall, "-ten minutes."_

"_Then we'll see you guys later," Callie and Timothy waved to the rest of their group and made their way out of the crowded café._

"_I don't know how you can do it, Frank." Emily tapped the eraser of her pencil on the table as she watched the pair leave._

"_Do what?" Frank asked, gathering up his own books._

"_Stay friends with Callie after… well, after everything that happened."_

"_He's not supposed to?" Tony reached across and picked up Frank's coffee, taking a drink_

"_It's not a big deal, Emily." The other boy took the mug back from his friend and downed a swig of his own._

"_Not a big deal?" Emily scoffed. "It's all the entire female population of Bayport High is talking about."_

"_I highly doubt that," Frank leaned back in his chair and nursed the last of his coffee._

"_It's not just the girls," Tony smirked, earning himself a teasing glare from his friend._

_Emily giggled. "Bayport High's power couple splits the day of the Spring Formal and then she shows up with one of your best friends? Trust me. News that juicy is worth talking about!"_

"_That's not how it happened," Frank rolled his eyes._

_Emily perked up and leaned forward. "Enquiring minds want to know!"_

_Frank just chuckled and shook his head. "It was a mutual decision and very amicable. Then I told her to go with Jerry since I had a flight to catch the next morning."_

_A disappointed sigh passed over Emily lips, having obviously wanted something more. "You don't mind that they're now seeing each other?"_

"_Why would I? They're both my friends and I want them to be happy."_

_She offered him a mischievous grin. "Does that mean the school's most eligible bachelor is ready to come off the market?"_

_He finished off his coffee and said casually, "Who said I was on the market?"_

_Emily's jaw dropped and even Tony's eyebrow arched questioningly. It looked as though the girl was at a loss for words but, just as she found her voice, a horn sounded outside. She glanced out the window. "Dang it, my mom's here! And just when it was getting good! I'll see you guys tomorrow."_

"_G'Night Emily," both boys said as she grabbed her books and exited the café._

_The last of the books on the table were swept into Tony's backpack as he regarded Frank. "I thought, for a minute there, you were going to tell her."_

_Frank shouldered his own pack and smiled. "Of course not, but at least now it'll give the gossip mill something else to talk about for a while." The two chuckled and Frank shrugged. "This way, if they're busy talking about my mystery girlfriend, maybe they'll give Callie and Jerry a break."_

_The two teens got up from the table and made their way out to the parking lot. "They went public too quickly, especially considering how long you and Callie were together."_

"_Possibly," Frank stopped next to the driver's side door of the van. "But things hadn't been right between Callie and me for a long time. I'm to blame for that-" _

"_Hey," Tony interrupted sternly, putting a hand on Frank's shoulder. "There's no blame for realizing your feelings. It's just one of those things."_

_Now it was Frank's turn to raise an eyebrow. "So you think I should reveal the secret?" _

_Tony snorted, "Nah, make them wonder until graduation."_

"_Good," he let out a relieved sigh, "Because I'm not ready to share just yet."_

"_You haven't told Joe?"_

"_No, but I'm going to have to soon." Frank admitted. "He's going to figure something out and I'd rather he hear it from me first."_

"_Very wise," Tony adjusted the back on his shoulder. "But I better get going before Amanda sends out a search party."_

_Frank slipped his key into the lock. "Want a ride?" _

"_Nah, it's only a couple of blocks. But thanks." Tony started to walk away as Frank opened the door. "Are you coming by later?"_

"_I have to wait for Joe after the game, but if all goes well we'll be by Mr Pizza's with everyone else."_

"_Then I'll see you later." _

HBHBHB

At some point during Tony's account, Joe had gotten out of his chair and started pacing the room. He'd walk the short distance to the room's window, pause for a few seconds, then turn and walk back. He chewed on his lower lip as he thought over what he'd heard.

"It wasn't the coffee," he muttered to himself.

"Your dad didn't think so either," Tony told him.

Joe shook his head. "Frank usually has it black, so there wouldn't have been much chance to add something to it."

"And the one time he did, I shared it with him."

The blonde stopped his pacing and leaned against the vacant bed. "What about the girl?"

"What girl?"

A disappointed frown touched Joe's features. "The one Frank's been seeing and hasn't seen fit to tell me about yet."

"He's wanted to tell you, Joe." Tony said carefully, the expression on his face showing he'd expected this.

"So why hasn't he?" the younger boy snapped angrily. "I put up with him and Callie all these years, I think that makes me a pretty tolerant guy. If he has a new girlfriend I should have known about it!"

"It's not that simple," was all his friend said.

"So who is she?"

Tony hesitated before answering. "It's not my place to tell you."

"Well its not like Frank's in any position to tell me," Joe snarled. "Beside, maybe he went to see her after leaving the café. She might have more information about what happened to him last night."

The door opened then, saving Tony the arduous task of answering his irate friend. Laura poked her head inside and smiled at the two boys. "Someone's here to see you two." She pushed the door open further and Dr Bates pushed a wheelchair into the room.

Frank Hardy's tired eyes looked at his brother, and friend, and a weary smile tugged at his lips. "Guess I overslept."


	5. Awake in a Dream

**A/N: **Okay, so I know its been a long while since I've updated this story and for that I do apologise. I got wrapped up in completing _Lie To Me_ and had to take a breather. I hadn't intended on coming back to this one until after the baby was born (which could be any day now) but I have a lot of free time on my hands at the moment and I had a small burst of inspiration. Sadly, I don't anticipate another chapter update for at least a month after this one. We'll see though.

To those of you who took the time to review chapter four, thank you all for your lovely comments. I do hope this one doesn't disappoint.

Enjoy! :)

* * *

**Chapter Five: Awake in a Dream**

With Joe and Dr Bates' help, Frank was now sitting on the edge of the hospital bed as the physician ran through a series of standard tests. Reflexes, blood pressure, heart rate, all witch seemed to please the Doctor.

The final test, Dr Bates moved a penlight rapidly a few times across Frank's vision, acutely aware of the trio behind him waiting tolerantly for his diagnosis. His patient, on the contrary, was fidgeting to the point of distraction. "Relax, Frank," He told the boy with a good natured smile. "You're getting as bad as Joe."

"Hey!" The younger boy exclaimed in mock protest.

Frank tried to settle his jitters. "Sorry Dr Bates, just a little anxious I guess."

The light was placed in the outside breast pocket of the Dr Bates lab coat. "A side effect of the GHB, I'm afraid. As is the dizziness and the panic attack you suffered when you woke in the MRI machine." He sat himself on the edge o f the bed, next to Frank, so he could address everyone. "Your central nervous system, basically, has been rebooted. Your senses may be a little more acute for a while and your emotions a little raw and exposed. You may feel anxious, paranoid, confused, but all of it should pass in a couple days and you'll be no worse for wear."

"So does that mean he can go home?" Laura asked, coming to stand beside her son and taking his hand in hers. She smiled when Frank gave it a gentle, reassuring squeeze.

"I'd like to keep him overnight for observation," Dr Bates admitted. "Despite the drug being out of his system, it took him much longer to come out of his state of sedation than I am comfortable with." He looked over at Frank when the boy sighed with disappointment. "While the images from your MRI showed no abnormalities with your brain activity, you do have a history of head trauma and I just want to err on the side of caution. With this type of narcotic you could, unfortunately, suffer a relapse if we happened to miss something."

"You mean he could slip back into a coma?" Joe practically growled.

The doctor nodded. "It's highly unlikely, but a possibility."

Several venomously muttered Italian phrases sounded from where Tony quietly sat, only to stop abruptly when four sets of eyes turned toward him. Though none knew what he had said, the way he had spoken left little doubt about the sentiments. He grinned sheepishly. "Sorry."

Laura chuckled gently. "I feel the same way, Tony."

Dr Bates rose from the mattress and made a notation on Frank's chart before hanging it from the foot of the bed. "If nothing happens by morning, I'll allow you to recuperate at home. But only if you promise me to take it easy the next couple of days."

"I will, Dr Bates," Frank agreed.

"He most certainly will," Laura added, kissing him on the temple, "I'll make sure of that."

With a fond smile to the family he had treated more often than he'd like to admit, Dr Bates excused himself and left the room.

Before the door was even closed, Frank was enveloped in a great hug from his mother. He smiled bashfully and patted her gently on the back. "You heard Dr Bates, Mom, I'm pretty much fine."

"But you weren't an hour ago," Joe pointed out. He stepped over to the bed and took his mother's place when she pulled away from Frank. "God, you scared the hell out of us last night Frank!"

"I was asleep," the older boy protest as his mother and brother both pushed him back into a laying position on the raised bed.

"Dude, you were in a chemically induced coma!" Tony exclaimed with a smile.

"Et tu, Brute!" Frank rolled his eyes, but was smiling none the less. "And did you just call me 'Dude'?"

Laughter filled the room, but only for a moment before Joe sat on the foot of the bed and looked at his brother. "Seriously, Frank, I don't think I've ever been as scared as I was last night. When you called…" He shook his head, choking back the wave of emotions he had felt only hours ago.

"And that's my cue to leave," Tony said quietly as he got up from his chair, slipping on his jacket. "I'll let everyone know you're okay. See you later?"

"If the warden allows it," Frank answered with a look to his mother.

Laura smiled and nodded. "Thank you for coming by, Tony."

"Not a problem, Mrs Hardy."

When the door clicked closed behind the teen, two pairs of worried blue eyes turned to Frank. "Look," he tried again to assure his mother and brother, "I'm fine! You can relax."

"Not just yet," a deep voice sounded as the door opened.

Fenton walked into the room, a smile lighting his face at the sight of his oldest son, followed by Agent Phillips. The father quickly closed the distance to the bed and wrapped his arms around Frank. "I came as soon as your mother called."

"Great," Frank rolled his eyes, "someone else to convince that I'm really okay!"

Arching an eyebrow at that statement, Fenton looked across the bed to his wife. "Is he channelling Joe now?"

"Hello, right here!" Joe shook his head.

"Well you are a little impatient when you've been hurt," Laura grinned and kissed the blond on the cheek.

"I'm not hurt," Frank said stubbornly, though there was a tone to his voice that banished the lightness of the moment. His dark eyes were focussed on the Agent still standing by the door, a faint gleam of fear creeping in at the edges. "Was it them?"

Agent Phillips and Fenton exchanged glances before the agent nodded slowly. "We believe so."

Repetitively cursing under his breath, Frank slumped further into his pillows and lifted a now shaking hand through his hair. "How?" He demanded. "We were careful, weren't we? The precautions…?"

"Yes," Fenton kept a strong hand on his son's shoulder in an attempt to keep him calm, "We were very careful. We don't know how they found out, yet, but we will. In the meantime, Agent Phillips is arranging protection for all of us until the State Department can get a safe house prepared for the family. It should only take a couple days."

"Protective custody?" Joe wrinkled his nose in disgust. "No way! I want in on catching these creeps that went after Frank!"

Frank cringed. "Joe-"

"Not a chance," Fenton shook his head.

Joe was fuming. "Why not?"

"Enough," Laura's normally gentle voice commanded harshly.

The men in the room turned their attention to the angry mother and Fenton blanched at the expression on his wife's face. "Laura-"

"No," the woman snapped, crossing her arms over her chest as she regarded her husband and the government agent. "You don't get to 'Laura' me and talk your way out of this one. Not this time, Fenton Hardy. You are going to tell me, right now, exactly what you have involved our son in."

Agent Phillips took a tentative step forward. "Mrs Hardy-"

"I will deal with you in a minute," She addressed the man, silencing him with both her tone and glare. Her anger was turned once again to Fenton. "Well?"

"Mom," Frank reached out and touched her gently on the arm to gain her attention. He was still trembling, but his voice was steady. "Dad didn't have a choice."

"There is always a choice," Laura laid her hand soothingly over his, "Especially when it comes to our sons."

"So what's going on?" Joe asked. Seeing Frank's reaction at the mention of going after the mysterious 'them', had gotten him on edge. Frank wasn't one to give in to his fear like this, and perhaps it was just the side effects of the drugs he'd been administered, but Joe felt there was more to it than that.

Slowly, and with great hesitation, the story was told again. It was a little easier the second time around for Fenton, and that he owed to Frank being able to explain his own part of the case. During the explanation, Laura's anger rose and fell until it had been replaced with absolute horror. She clutched tightly to Frank's hand and the teen found he didn't mind the contact in the least.

When it was over, a heavy silence hung over the room. Joe had gone pale at one very frightening realization. "Why didn't they kill Frank?"

No one could give an answer.

The world around Frank, with that one question, came crashing down around him.

HBHBHB

The room was quiet, which was the first thing Frank noticed as he opened his eyes. The second was that the adults were no longer there, just Joe sitting quietly in a chair flipping through a magazine. The younger boy glanced up as Frank lifted himself onto his elbows.

"Hey."

"What happened?" Frank asked, adjusting the bed position a little.

"You had another panic attack," Joe put the magazine aside and moved to his brother's side. "Hyperventilated and passed out about twenty minutes ago. Scared Mom pretty badly, actually, but Doc Bates said you just got worked up. Dad took her down to the cafeteria for some tea and – I'm only guessing here – to try and smooth things out some more. She's really ticked."

"I don't remember," Frank said quietly, staring straight ahead.

"I guess I pointed out something that you didn't like," Joe admitted grimly. "But someone had to say it."

Frank shook his head. "No, that I remember. But, last night I don't remember."

"Nothing?"

"I remember being at the café with Tony and the others, but after that it's a big blank." The boy sighed with disappointment. "Dad and Agent Phillips are going to want to know what happened after I left the coffee shop, but there's just nothing there."

Joe nodded slowly and slipped his hands into the back pockets of his jeans. "Are you sure you don't remember? Maybe you just don't want to tell me what happened?"

Frank arched his eyebrow in confusion. "What is that suppose to mean?"

"Oh, I don't know Frank," Joe answered tersely, "You've been pretty good at keeping secrets from me the last couple of weeks. We use to tell each other everything!"

"It was an investigation with the United States Government! I couldn't tell anyone anything, not just you."

"That's not what I was talking about," Joe huffed.

"Then what are you talking about?"

The blond was quiet for a moment before he sighed. "Tony told me, Frank."

"Tony told…" Frank cut himself off and looked away from his brother. "Oh."

"So it's true then?" When Frank didn't answer him right away, Joe shook his head. The hurt and disappointment clear on his face. "How could you not tell me something like this, Frank?"

"It's not that simple," was Frank's quiet answer.

"What's so hard about it? You just come out and say it, especially to me!"

Frank finally looked at Joe's pained face. "It wasn't exactly something I had planned, you know. I just… I wasn't ready to tell anyone yet. Not even you."

"Why?" Joe demanded. "Did you think I wouldn't understand?"

"Honestly? Yes."

"Oh that's just great, Frank. We're supposed to be partners. We're supposed to trust each other with out lives-"

"There's no one I trust more!" Frank protested.

"And yet I had to learn about this from Tony!" Joe shouted, angrier than he had been in a very long time. "I should have heard it from you!"

"What in the world is going on in here?" Laura and Fenton stood in the opened doorway with several men in suits standing not far behind them peering inside.

"I'm going home," Joe stormed away from the bed.

"Joe, please!" Frank called after his brother but the other boy just pushed his way past their parents and out of the room. Two of the suited men followed right behind as Joe vanished down the hall.

Fenton looked confused but, at his wife's urging, went after Joe, leaving Laura with Frank. She stepped into the room, closing the door on the remaining men standing in the corridor. "US Marshals," She explained to her son as she walked over to his bed. "Apparently, you and your father's escapades in the orient have earned us our very own detail of bodyguards until further notice."

Unable to find his voice past the lump in his throat, he just nodded solemnly. He felt heartsick. He and Joe had fought before, but this was different. They hadn't kept a secret from each other, intentionally, since they were kids. And now Frank had kept one of the biggest secret from him for weeks.

His mother sat beside him, turning his face gently until he was facing her. "Care to tell me what that was all about?"

Swallowing the lump and the guilt, Frank let himself be comforted by his mother's touch. "He found out, Mom, and not from me like he should have."

"Oh Frank," she stroked his hair tenderly away from his face. "I was afraid something like this might happen. Ever since we talked before you left for Tokyo."

"I shouldn't have kept it from him."

"You've done nothing wrong, Frank," She assured him gently. "I know you boys are close, but that doesn't mean you have to divulge every little aspect of your lives to each other. Some things are okay to keep private."

"But he was so hurt, Mom…"

"He's your brother, he'll get over it. He just needs a little time to get use to the idea. Just give him a little space and he'll come around. You boys are going to have plenty of time to discuss things once we get to the safe house. Lord knows I'm not letting either of you out of my sights for a very long time."

Frank had to smile. "So I'm not off the hook then?"

"Not even close," Laura jabbed her son softly on the shoulder. "When we get you home, you and I are going to have a very long discussion about what are and aren't acceptable cases for a boy your age."

"Yes Ma'am."


	6. Exposure

**A/N: **_Well, here I am again! Thank you, everyone, for your patience with me while I get back into a somewhat normal routine around my house. Life with a new baby is taking some getting use to. Two kids are definitely more to handle than just one. Luckily, my oldest is off to preschool two times a week, so I have a little time to myself._

_Since this is the first HB thing I've written in a while, I hope it's worth the wait and answers some of the questions you've been asking. The big one being, of course, what is Frank's secret? What was he afraid to tell Joe? I figured, after a several month hiatus, you all deserved that answer. So, here it is! _

_Enjoy! _

* * *

**Chapter Six: Exposure**

Fenton climbed the steps from the garage to the kitchen entrance, shaking his head as he watched his younger son storm through the room. Joe had said nothing the entire ride back to the house, leaving the father in the dark as to why his boys had been fighting at the hospital.

Before he closed the garage door, he noticed the SUV carrying the US Marshals that had followed them home parking next to the curb in front of the house. He nodded to the man in the passenger seat, acknowledging their presence before pressing the door controls and following after his son.

"What has gotten into Joseph?" Gertrude asked him when Fenton stepped into the foyer. "He came barrelling past here with a cloud as dark as the ones outside hanging over his head!"

"I'm about to find out," he assured her as he started up the stairs.

He found Joe in the boy's room, lying on his bed and glaring up at the ceiling. As Fenton walked into the room, he grabbed the chair from his son's desk and spun it around before setting it next to the bed and straddling it. "Are you ready to tell me what went on back at the hospital? Given that we could have lost Frank last night, I honestly didn't expect to find the two of you arguing like that."

Joe tilted his head to the side and looked at his father. "Apparently, I don't know my brother as well as I thought I did."

"I don't follow you."

With a sigh, Joe sat up on the edge of his bed. "I just never thought he'd keep something like this secret from me."

Understanding finally came to Fenton. "Ah, he finally told you."

"No, I got it from Tony." A pained expression filled those crystal blue eyes. "You knew?"

Fenton nodded slowly. "Frank and I talked about it when he was in Tokyo."

"So what," Joe sneered, "was I the only one he decided didn't need to know?"

"He wasn't sure how to tell you, Son. It wasn't an easy choice for him and even in Tokyo he wasn't sure he'd made the right one. He wanted to wait to tell you until he was certain of his decision."

"And yet he found it okay to tell Tony?"

"Tony was the one who suggested it," the older man explained. "Frank wasn't even going to consider it, but Tony convinced him to at least try."

"He still could have told me," Joe said, reluctant to let go of his resentment. "I mean, how could he think I wouldn't understand? Who is this girl that he thinks I wouldn't understand him having a new girlfriend?!"

"Wait, new girlfriend?" Fenton shook his head in confusion. "Frank doesn't have a new girlfriend."

"That's what Tony said," Joe growled.

"Hang on a moment. What exactly did Tony say to you?"

"Just that last night, Frank told Emily – the school's biggest gossip, by the way – that he wasn't available when she asked him if he was ready to start dating again."

There was no stopping the chuckle the formed in the father's throat. "Joe, there is no girlfriend."

"Then why would Frank say he did?"

"Did he?"

"He didn't deny it at the hospital."

"But did you ask him, straight out, if he had a new girlfriend?"

Joe stopped to think for a moment, a faint blush rising in his cheeks. "No, I guess I didn't."

"And what's one of the first rules I taught you boys about interrogations?"

"Never assume an answer to a question that was never asked." Joe groaned. "Okay, so I messed up on that one, but he has been keeping something from me. And for weeks! If it's not a new girlfriend, then what is it?" He looked at his father, "He's not gay is he?"

Fenton burst out laughing. "No, he's not. And even if he were, would that matter?"

"Of course not," Joe exclaimed. "It just… well… okay then, if he doesn't have a girlfriend – or a boyfriend – what's this big secret that everyone else seems to be in on but me?"

Exhaling slowly, Fenton banished the last traces of his laughter. "Frank got accepted to The University of Oxford."

Joe's eyes flew open. "Oxford? As in Oxford, Oxford? England, Oxford?"

"Yes," Fenton nodded. Although he knew how upset the younger boy was going to be, he couldn't keep the pride from his voice. "He wasn't going to apply but, when the Prito's went to Europe during winter break, Tony's cousin took them on a tour of the University. More as a joke than anything, Tony convinced Frank to apply to their Center of Criminology while Tony applied to their Business Economics Programme. Both never expected anything to come of it, but Frank got in."

"He's not going to go," Joe said quietly, "Is he?"

"He wanted to talk to your mother and me about it first," Fenton answered carefully. "It is a lot of money – significantly more than if he stayed here and went to the community college, with you, like you boys had originally planned – but if I took a few more cases each year and we took a loan out against the equity on the house, we could manage it."

Lowering his head to avoid his father's gaze, Joe grit his teeth. "Is he going to go?"

Fenton took a deep breath. "You have to realize what an amazing opportunity this is for Frank. Oxford is one of the best International Criminology programs in the world, and if he were to study through the summer months he could be finished in three years instead of four. Your mother told me, last night before everything happened, that Frank sent his letter of confirmation a couple of days ago."

The silence hung heavy around father and son, remaining until Joe gave a depressed sigh and lay back on the bed again. "I just don't get why he wouldn't tell me."

Not sure what he could say to ease the boy's hurt, Fenton started to speak again when his cell phone sounded softly from the breast pocket of his jacket. Lifting the device out, he glanced at the display with every intention of ignoring it. He recognized the number and reluctantly answered. "Fenton Hardy."

"_They didn't know,"_ Agent Phillip's voice said urgently across the line. In the background Fenton could hear the sound of the federal agent's vehicle.

"What are you talking about, Doug?"

"_About Frank, they didn't know who he was. He was just a message to you." _

"They didn't know?" Despite the potential reassurance those words could have brought, there was a sense of dread that came across with Agent Phillip's tone. Fenton felt his heart start to race and he got up from his seat. "But they do now…"

"_We intercepted a communiqué from their cell in New York to the gang back in Japan,"_ Doug explained. _"They sent pictures of Frank in the motel room back to prove to the higher ups that the message had been delivered." _

The feeling of alarm got worse. "And someone recognized him."

"_Fenton, I can't reach the Marshals we left at the hospital."_

Fenton didn't wait to hear any more. He ended the call and started dialling Laura's cell number as he was suddenly sprinting for the door.

--HBHBHB--

The outdoor sitting deck, on the third floor of Bayport General Hospital, was a small gardened area maintained by several volunteer organizations. On the southern side of the building it was normally basked in sun throughout most of the day and, even with the dark clouds threatening rain, Frank was glad to be outside. "Thanks for the visit, and for coming out here with me, Sam. Between Mom and the Marshals, I was feeling a little claustrophobic in there. "

Sam Radley smiled at the boy as the two sat in a pair of lounge chairs. "Any time, kid. Your mom looked like she needed the break, and Ethel was more than happy to keep her company. I'm just not sure how good of an idea it was to leave the Marshals back at the room."

"They needed to stay with Mom. Beside, I've got you to protect me don't I?" Frank smiled at the man, but it faded a moment later. He fidgeted a little, picking at a flake of paint on arm of the wooden chair. "I really screwed up this time, didn't I?"

"How do you figure?"

"I knew how dangerous Dad's case could be, and I played it down. I told Mom just enough that she'd agree to let me go to Tokyo, and now look what's happened." He shook his head. "I haven't seen her scared like this since – well, I can't even think of a time."

"Maybe it wasn't the smartest idea you've ever had," the detective agreed with a soft chuckle, "but I don't think that it counts as your screw up."

"No?" Frank raised an eyebrow at his father's partner.

"No," Sam said. "Fenton knew it would be dangerous and yet he still asked you to get involved. I think he regrets it now, and I know Laura's not going to let him get away with it. If you want my advice, let your father carry the blame on this one. Save the guilt for when it's really your fault."

With a soft laugh and nod, Frank tilted his head back and watched the storm clouds as they rolled across the sky. "How long have we been outside?"

"Maybe fifteen minutes," Sam answered after glancing at his watch. "Why? Do you want to head back inside?"

Frank shook his head. "Not really, but I'm sure Mom's getting a little antsy. It probably wouldn't be a bad idea to go back in before she sends the Marshals out looking for us."

Sam got up from his chair and offered a hand to the younger man. "That's probably not a bad idea, kid. I think your mother's been through enough in the past twenty four hours."

Taking the proffered hand, Frank got to his feet. He didn't immediately release Sam's hand as Frank felt a shiver, which had nothing to do with the chilled air, course through his body. His hands began to tremble and he took a deep, calming breath. "They could have killed me, Sam," he said quietly after a moment. "They should have killed me."

"Hey," Sam gripped the quivering hand tighter and met the boy's frightened eyes. "Don't go thinking things like that. You'll have another anxiety attack. Just thank heaven that things weren't any worse than they were. And trust me; they were bad enough on everyone. "

Frank nodded and forced a smile just as the door to the deck opened. Two men, dressed as orderlies, stepped through the doorway. One was pushing an unoccupied wheelchair and something about their demeanour set the alarms off in Frank's mind.

Sam obviously felt it too as he stepped protectively in front of Frank. "Can we help you gentlemen?"

Neither said anything, but the handgun that was suddenly aimed in their direction spoke volumes.

There was a muffled pop, and it was only when Sam staggered back into Frank that the boy realized that the weapon had been fired. The silencer attached to the barrel had done its job all to well.

Sam's body went limp and Frank urgently guided him to the ground. Already a large crimson stain was spreading across the man's chest. He felt his heart racing as he pressed his palms against the wound, shouting for help as loudly as he could.

A damp cloth was clamped over Frank's mouth as he was pulled violently away from Sam. He fought the hands that painfully gripped his arms, but as his panic rose he couldn't stop himself from inhaling the chemical on the rag. All at once, his head began to spin and everything became clear.

_Tony adjusted the back on his shoulder. "But I better get going before Amanda sends out a search party."_

_Frank slipped his key into the lock. "Want a ride?" _

"_Nah, it's only a couple of blocks. But thanks." Tony started to walk away as Frank opened the door. "Are you coming by later?"_

"_I have to wait for Joe after the game, but if all goes well we'll be by Mr Pizza's with everyone else."_

"_Then I'll see you later."_

_Watching his friend walk away, Frank pulled the door to the van opened and climbed inside. No sooner had he closed the door then the hands grabbed him. They pulled him back against the seat, pinning him so he was unable to fight when the acrid smelling rag was pressed over his mouth and nose. He held his breath, eyes boring into the back of Tony's head, silently screaming for him to turn around. _

_But the boy didn't and disappeared around a corner a minute later. _

_Frank's lungs were burning for oxygen and before he could stop himself he was inhaling. Everthing went dark._

As the world faded into darkness around him again, Frank could only think that this time he wasn't going to be so lucky.

He was a dead man.


	7. The Last Straw

Author's Notes

ArgentSkye: I'm sorry that it had been so long between updates that you had to reread the story. I'll try not to take so long from now on. =)

AzWriter: Thank you very much for the compliment. I like hearing things like that.

UKFan101: A favourite author? That made me blush! lol

franknjoe: Yes, I am aware that Red likes Sam. I am also aware of what she might do should I kill the man. lol

frankette: I will confess that it was your messages urging me to update that prompted the renewal of this story. So everyone can thank you for that, I know I do. As for NaNoWriMo… I don't think I'm going to finish this year. My muse has been hijacked by Arashi. =D

Thank you everyone for your kind reviews. It really helps me to keep going. I'm hoping that I'll be able to update a little more regularly now that I'm picking up the flow of this story again.

This chapter is a little on the short side, but I hope you enjoy it none the less.

-Liz

* * *

Chapter Seven: The Last Straw

When the elevator doors opened on the third floor, Fenton was rushing out before they were fully ajar. When he had called Laura, she had been in the cafeteria with Ethel. She assured him that Frank was fine when she saw him heading out to the floor's outdoor area with Sam. That had eased his worries somewhat, until he tried to reach Sam on his cell.

There had been no answer, and skidding to a halt he understood why.

Laura and Ethel were standing outside Frank's room, clutching desperately onto one another. Both women's faces were moist from their tears and their eyes followed the orderlies that wheeled the two sheet covered bodies from the room.

A talon of ice gripped at Fenton's heart, squeezing the breath from him.

Behind him he heard Joe's sharp intake of breath at the sight that greeted him. "No!" The heart wrenching scream tore through the corridor, causing all eyes to turn toward the boy.

Joe rushed past his frozen father only to be held back by the security officer that stood nearby. "No! Please, God! No!"

Laura pried herself away from Ethel and ran to her son. She took his head between her hands and forced him to look away from the gurneys. "It's not him, Joe! It's not Frank!"

Understanding was slow to come to the teen and even slower for Fenton who had barely heard his wife's choked words. He was suddenly in control of himself again, though the feeling of overwhelming dread and grief didn't leave him immediately. He stepped toward his family where he placed a hand on Joe's shaking shoulder.

"It's the Marshals," She explained after she stifled another sob. "After you called we came back to the room and found them. They'd been shot."

"Where's Frank?" Joe asked, his voice thick as he struggled to reign in emotions.

Laura shook her head, tears spilling silently down her cheeks. "We can't find him. Security checked the deck and-" She glanced over her shoulder at Ethel. "They took Sam to surgery once they got his heart started again."

Fenton looked to his partner's wife. The woman looked up, feeling his eyes on her, and there was no disguising the look of blame that flashed across her face before she looked away.

"Oh god," Joe moaned. "This is all my fault!"

His mother shook her head forcefully. "Baby, no!"

"It is," He insisted. "If I hadn't fought with Frank – hadn't insisted on going home – the other marshals would have been here. Dad would have been here! Frank and Sam wouldn't have been alone."

Hearing the boy's anguish, Ethel Radley walked over to him and comfortingly caressed his cheek. "No, Joe. This is not your fault."

"She's right," Fenton added when his son went to protest again.

"It's yours, Fenton."

For a moment he thought it had been Ethel who had voiced what he had been thinking himself, but when he looked up he saw the absolute abhorrence on his own wife's face.

Tears drying on her face, Laura guided Joe away from her husband. She stepped toe to toe with him, looking up into his face with such disdain Fenton had never seen in her eyes before. "This is your fault, Fenton Hardy. You got my son involved in this. You put him in the sights of the worst criminal organization in the world. You got your partner – your best friend – shot when he was doing your job, trying to protect my son!"

"Laura-"

"No!" she screamed, shoving her hands against his chest so fiercely he stumbled back. She pursued him. "I have kept quiet long enough! How many times have my children been hurt or kidnapped because of something you did? How many times have I had to sit beside their hospital beds because they wanted to be like you? They are boys, Fenton, and should be worrying about homework, and girls, and college; not worrying about assassins and thugs and mobsters! Well we're done with it!"

Joe took a tentative step forward. "Mom-"

She glanced at her youngest son, the shocked expression on his face calming her tirade. She turned back to her husband, her quieted voice even more menacing than her shouting. "You will listen to me now, Mr Hardy. You will go and find my son and bring him home. He will be alive and well – not a scratch on his body – or you do not come back at all. Do I make myself clear?"

He had gone too far; the detective could see that now.

Looking at his wife he desperately hoped to see the woman that loved him only that morning, but all he saw was a mother desperate for the return of her son. And if truth be told, he couldn't fault her for that.

Without a word – for there was nothing that could be said – he stepped back to the elevator. The doors opened the instant he pressed the down button, and he could only watch with a breaking heart as the door closed between him and his family.


	8. Why We Do It

Author's Notes:

Chromde, Red, Penguin, Frankette, AZ, FranknJoe, Skye and UKFan, thank you for the reviews. Whoever said that reviews are like crack were right! And they're great for the muse as well. So, if you want the chapter to keep coming, keep those reviews coming! -GRIN-

So, on with the story!

-Liz

* * *

Chapter Eight: Why We Do It

"Why haven't we heard anything?"

Laura put a comforting hand on the other woman's back, rubbing it in a gentle circular motion. "They haven't been in there very long, Ethel. I know this is hard, but we just have to wait. We'll hear something as soon as the doctors know Sam's condition."

Watching his mother as she sat beside her best friend, Joe was in awe of her strength. Given the situation, she had every right to fall apart but she was holding it together for the sake of her friend.

He wished he had her strength at the moment.

Joe was painfully aware of every minute that ticked by. Every moment he sat doing nothing. His brother needed him but, after the scene between his parents only an hour ago, he couldn't bring himself to leave his mother's side. It would kill her if he took off to join the search for Frank, but with every second that passed he felt the urge to do just that grow.

The outdated magazine he had found was suddenly tossed aside and he practically leapt to his feet. He strode over to the coffee vending machine and proceeded to drop several quarters into the slot. With a heavy sigh he leaned his forehead against the machine, watching without seeing as coffee filled a paper cup.

He felt his mother's hand on his lower back and lifted his head to face her.

"Hanging in there?" she asked softly.

Glancing over her shoulder he saw that they were alone in the waiting room. "Where's Ethel?"

"She needed some air, and some alone time." Laura said flatly. "This is the hardest part of being a detective's wife – or mother. The uncertainty of it all can make a person want to scream."

Her lower lip quivered and Joe could take it no longer.

"Mom, I can't be here."

She nodded. "There's no need for both of us to stay here. Why don't you go home and get something to eat and some rest. I'll call when there's word."

"No, Mom," Joe said hesitantly, "I can't just sit here. I need to be out there; with Dad looking for Frank."

"Most definitely not," Laura snapped, fear edging through her composure. "I will not have you putting yourself at risk. Your father and the police will find Frank."

With a sigh he guided his mother to a chair and crouched in front of her. "Mom, why do you think Frank and I do what we do?"

"Well, with your father teaching you since you were boys…" her voice trailed off when he shook her head.

"We do it because we've got each other." He couldn't stop the small smile that touched his lips. "Do you remember three years ago; the time my arm was broken in that fight with those guys who'd been breaking into the stores downtown?"

When she nodded, he continued.

"That was the first time either one of us had been really hurt on a case. After we got back from the hospital, Frank and I ended up talking for a long time. I wasn't sure it was a good idea to keep investigating. I mean, come on, a couple of kids taking on criminals and the like? It was crazy dangerous! We knew that. But Frank…"

He took a deep breath, finding it hard to think of his brother without the fear creeping in. "We'd argued that day; Frank and me. I can't even remember what about, but by that night we were barely talking. Still, we had a case to solve and we were determined to finish what we started. We split up. When I got caught, Frank never hesitated. Here he was, a fifteen year old kid, taking on a gang of thieves to help his stupid kid brother. Then the cops showed up. We got lucky, and we knew it.

"Solving mysteries, working together the way we do, is a gift. That's what Frank told me after that. That the only reason I got hurt was because we were fighting each other instead of working together like we usually did. I knew he was right, but I still wasn't sure if we should keep doing it. If the policed hadn't arrived when they did, we could have been seriously hurt or even killed."

A lump formed in his throat and he paused a moment before he found the breath to keep going. "Frank made me a promise. He said that if I didn't want to continue investigating, he wouldn't either. He wouldn't solve another mystery if he couldn't have the partner he trusted most beside him. At fifteen he told me this! And he proved it to me. He didn't even look at another case until I went to him; until I was ready to start investigating again."

Laura smiled sadly. "I remember you father wondering why Frank wouldn't help him with even the simplest research. I basically told him the same thing Frank told you. Frank wouldn't help until you would."

"He's never let me down since, Mom." Joe said thickly. "Not once in the last three years. Yes, I've been hurt and in trouble, but Frank has always been there for me. It's my turn now, Mom. Frank is in trouble and he needs me to find him. If it were me, you know he wouldn't let anything stop him from coming after me. Not even you."

"My heart couldn't take it if something happened to you too, Joe."

He could see the tears shimmering in her eyes. Still, he knew he had no other choice. "I can't promise that nothing is going to happen, but I have to do this Mom. I hope you can understand that."

She suddenly reached out and enveloped him in her arms. She held him tightly, and he could practically feel her desperate need to hang on to him. He thought, for a moment, that he would have to pry her off him but then he heard her whispered sob in his ear. "I understand."

Joe leaned back, looking into his mother's pride filled eyes. She gave him as much of a smile as she could muster through the tears. "Go. Find your brother."

Kissing her cheek, he hugged her briefly again before standing and rushing out of the waiting room. As he waited for the elevator, he pulled his cell phone from his pocket and began dialling the first number that came to mind.

"Tony," he practically shouted as soon as the call connected. "Get the gang together and meet me at the house. Frank's in trouble and I'm going to need some help with this one."

--HBHBHB--

"How can we help?"

That was the consensus of the entire group, gathered in the Hardy' living room, after Joe had told his friends the story – the entire story – of what was happening. They'd been shocked, naturally, to hear of the involvement of the Japanese Mafia, and horrified to hear that Sam had been shot. When Joe had finished speaking the room had been unnervingly quiet.

Until Callie had spoken up and voiced what they were all thinking: They wanted to help.

Joe sighed, flopping into his father's easy chair. "I have no idea. On the way here, I got thinking that I need to talk to this Ambassador, the one that was smuggling the drugs in the first place, to get him to tell us where they'd take Frank. But I don't know his name, or even if he's back in the states yet."

"What about your Dad?" Biff asked. "He'd know, wouldn't he?"

"I already tried calling him," Joe shook his head. "For whatever reason, he's not answering his phone."

"Okay, let's count him out for now then." Phil leaned forward in his chair. "You and Frank have solved a lot of cases, some of then government. Know anyone who works for Uncle Sam that might be able to get you that information?"

Joe perked up and glanced over at Chet. The other boy's eyes were as wide as Joe's as they came up with the answer together. "Gray Man!"

"Who?" Vanessa watched her boyfriend practically leap for the phone.

"The terrorist group that was responsible for Iola's death," Chet answered as Joe dialled, "Mr Gray was one of the government agents that Joe and Frank worked with on more than one occasion before they brought the group down."

"The Assassins have been pretty much out of business for months now," Joe continued as he waited for the call to be answered. "But Gray and the Network -"

"_What have you gotten yourself into this time, Hardys?"_

"A pleasure as always, Mr Gray," Joe said into the receiver. "You know that little terrorist problem of yours that Frank and I help out with?"

"_This isn't a secure line, Joseph."_

"I don't care," he snapped. "You owe us, and I need a favour. The US Ambassador arrested for working with the Yakuza in Tokyo, I need information from him: Where the Yakuza would take someone they grabbed in from here in the states. New York, to be exact."

There was a brief pause. _"They've taken Frank."_ It wasn't a question. Gray knew that there would only be one reason why Joe would be calling him for help. _"I know who you're talking about, but he's still being held in Japan."_

"Can you get to him?"

"_Stay put. I call back as soon as I know something."_

Joe thanked the government agent and hung up the phone. Everyone was looking at him anxiously. He sat back in his chair. "Now we wait."


	9. Inevitability

_Author's Note:_

_Red, Penguin, AZ, Skye, Frankette, Chromde, and UKFan, thank you all again for the lovely reviews. My muse thanks you as well. -Grin-_

* * *

Chapter Nine: Inevitability 

Dark eyes fluttered open slowly, confusion following at the familiarity of their surroundings. The distinctive sound of a running engine filled his ears and, as his eyes finally focused, he was surprised to find himself lying in the back of his own van. He started to push himself off the floor, but the sudden sound of a gun's safety clip releasing brought him to a halt.

"I wouldn't be moving too much if I were you, Kid."

His heart racing insanely fast against his chest, Frank looked up at the man occupying the passenger seat. The automatic pistol aimed his direction all but guaranteed his compliance. "What's going on?" he dared to ask. He recognized the man as the thug who had shot Sam and felt a shiver forming at the base of his spine.

"Seems you pissed off the wrong people," the driver chuckled, glancing in the review mirror at the boy.

_That's obvious_, he thought nervously.

"Ah, ah, ah!" Gunman shook his head when Frank started to move again.

"I'm just sitting up. The floor's cold," He explained, hoping that the man was a little understanding considering Frank was wearing nothing but the thin hospital robe over a pair of equally thin pyjama pants. In reality, he was hoping to see one of the many potential weapons he and his brother had stashed over the years, but to his chagrin the back of the vehicle had been thoroughly cleaned out. The only benefit, was now he could see somewhat out of the windows.

They were driving along the interstate, and on the horizon he could make of the New York City skyline. He felt his heart lurch at that thought. It would be all too easy to hide him in a city of millions.

"Should we give him another whiff?" Driver asked his companion.

Gunman chuckled darkly and shook his head. "Nah, he's going to behave, aren't you kid? Beside, we're almost there. Etsuko wanted him conscious, that's why he didn't get more when we grabbed him."

They were talking as if he wasn't there, and that made his nervous. Almost as nervous as when he heard the name.

Etsuko Oonishi was the Yamaguchi-gumi Clan's contact that Frank had been instructed to deliver the crystal meth to in Hawaii. He had assumed he'd been arrested along with the rest of the names Frank had been able to garner for the state department. Apparently he had been mistaken. If he was being taken to Etsuko, Frank was in serious trouble.

The feeling in the pit of the stomach grew and left him with little doubt that he would be dead before the end of the day. It was just a matter of when and how.

With that realization, Frank was determined to find a way to escape. If he could just get the gun away from the passenger.

Gunman never looked away from him, keeping the weapon steady in it coverage of the boy. There was no chance of Frank being able to get the jump on the man. It was beginning to look like there was nothing he could do when the sounds of sirens behind them shattered the quiet of the van.

His head snapping around, Frank could see the flashing lights through the van's back windows. His heart soared.

"What do I do, man?" Driver asked in a panic.

Gunman was already undoing his seatbelt and climbing into the back. "Pull over." He kept the weapon trained on the young Hardy as the vehicle started to slow. He pulled the belt to the robe off Frank's waist and had his wrists tightly bound together in front of him before the van had stopped completely. Grabbing the front of the robe he moved the boy behind the driver's seat, effectively hiding him anyone who might peer in through the driver-side window. The barrel of the gun was pressed against Frank's temple as Gunman growled, "You make so much as one sound and I won't care what condition Etsuko wanted you in."

Wordlessly, Frank nodded.

There were an anxious couple minutes of silence as they waited, but then he heard the booted footsteps of the officer approaching the van. As Driver rolled down the window, Gunman passed the weapon to his partner's right hand.

"Is there a problem, officer?"

"I need you to step out of the vehicle please, Sir."

"Have I don't something wrong?" Driver asked again, the door clicking as he pulled on the handle.

"Just get out of the vehicle, slowly."

Frank felt his body tense as the door began to open. His mind screamed for him to remain silent, to give his abductors no reason to follow through with their threat, but he knew what was about to happen. He had no other choice.

"He's got a gun!"

Gunman moved quickly, his iron-like fist slamming hard into Frank's jaw. Stars exploded across his vision and the report of a gun firing echoed in his ears. Almost immediately there came a squealing of brakes and the horrifying impact of a vehicle against human flesh. More screams of stopping cars overlapped as Driver leapt back into the van and floored the accelerator.

His head was spinning violently and he heard the venomous hiss of Gunman in his ear. "You're going to regret that."

There were a lot of things that Frank had come to regret in the past twenty-four hours – had it really only been that long since all this started? – But trying to stop them from killing the cop wasn't one of them.

He regretted the man's death, knowing that he had only pulled the van over because of the APB that had been put out on it when it hadn't been found that morning. He regretted knowing that Sam was dead and that the man's wife was now mourning his loss because of Frank. He regretted putting his parents through the worry of his disappearance again and thought that maybe it would have been better if he had been killed the night before.

But most of all, he regretted not trusting his brother. He could admit that now. Frank trusted Joe with his life, but he hadn't trust him to understand why Frank was going away for school. He had wrestled with the decision for weeks, putting his parents in an impossible situation when he confided in them. He knew they only remained silent at his bequest and advised his own silence on the matter because they knew that was what he wanted to hear. He wanted their justification.

In reality, he just hadn't been ready to accept his own decision. He had chosen to leave Joe behind. And after all that they had been through together over the years, he couldn't believe that he had made that choice.

It didn't matter now, though. He'd be dead soon enough and college was the least of his concern.

He must have blacked out for a little while, because he was next aware of being dragged from the back of his van and into a large white building. The brief moment he was in the open air was enough to clear the fog from his head.

Inside he realized he was in a self storage facility, or at least something that was trying to pass as one. He was escorted through the corridor where he was lead into a freight elevator. Neither goon said a word as the car rose several floors, and that suited Frank just fine.

When the elevator cage was lifted, his heart leapt against his chest.

There were half a dozen men all dressed in expensive looking suits. One of them, a middle aged Japanese man, sat behind a table in the otherwise empty expanse. When Frank was shoved forward, Etsuko smiled.

"Ah, Mr Hardy, thank you for joining us."

"Did I have a choice," Frank muttered as he was jerked to a stop.

Etsuko leaned back in his chair, tenting his fingers in front of him. "Or do you prefer Christophersen? That was your name, wasn't it? Jake Christophersen?" When Frank remained silent, Etsuko sighed and motioned to Gunman. "Encourage him."

With a smirk of enjoyment, Gunman slammed his fist into Frank's back, sending a flare of pain slicing through his kidney. With a groan of pain, Frank slumped to his knees. Almost at once, he was pulled to his feet again.

"In polite society," Etsuko Oonishi said as he rose from his chair and walked around the table, "A young man will answer when he asked a question by his elders. So we will try this again. Did you, or did you not, use the name Jake Christophersen on a recent venture to Tokyo?"

Panting to regain his breath, Frank nodded. "Yeah."

"Very good, Mr Hardy." The mobster approached him, still wearing an unnervingly pleasant smile. "The people I work with are not unreasonable people. When your father succeeded in removing our ally from your country's consulate, we were content to leave it go with just a warning. A reminder that we would not be so forgiving should he cross us again. After all, he is a business man and was just doing that which he was hired for. We can appreciate that. After all, a few employees can be replaced. "

With an exaggerated sigh, Etsuko now stood before him. "But you, boy, you took something that did not belong to you; something worth a lot of money to my associates and cannot be so easily replaced. How fortunate for you that we could not find Jake Christophersen. We had almost given up when, to our surprise, his son and Jake Christophersen were discovered to be one and the same. Fortune, it seemed, had smiled upon us."

"So, what now?" Frank found the courage to ask. "You kill me and dump my body somewhere as another message to my father?"

"Perhaps," Etsuko motioned again to the men behind him before returning to his chair.

Gunman removed his jacket and begun unbuttoning his shirt. Driver untied Frank's wrists, and then slipped the robe from his body. Etsuko once again steepled his fingers as he spoke. "But we are honourable people, Mr Hardy. You, too, were just doing a job. But retribution must be taken."

The remaining men took up positions around Gunman and the young hardy, effectively forming a circle around them. Gunman tossed his shirt aside and Frank was amazed at the defined muscles of the man's chest. Frank was athletically built and no slouch when it came to muscles, but next to him Gunman was a brute.

"I told you you'd regret it, Kid." Gunman sneered.

"If you can best my friend," Etsuko said calmly, "You will be permitted to walk out of this building, and the Clan will not bother you again. The one to kill the other will be declared the victor."

Gunman laughed, cracking his neck and knuckles as he started to bounce from foot to foot.

See the way the man moved, the agility and speed hidden beneath Gunman's bulging form, Frank almost wished they'd just put a bullet in him. His horrified musings were once more interrupted by Etsuko.

"Begin."


	10. The Calm

**A/N: **Thank you everyone, again, for the reviews. =)

I'm not entirely happy with this chapter, but seeing that its after 2am I'm not all that surprised. I may or may not alter it in the morning. I'll let you know.

Enjoy!

* * *

CHAPTER TEN: THE CALM

The sedan was all that kept him on his feet. His hands rested on the roof of the dark vehicle, his head bent low, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. Rain had begun to pelt him minutes before and still Fenton made no move to climb into the shelter of the car's interior.

His wife's words echoed in his ears, her face burned in his mind, and he had barely made it to the hospital parking lot before the guilt overwhelmed him. He tried to fight it, knowing that his self-loathing was not going to help him find his son, but it sent him reeling as it all came crashing in around him.

He did this.

He brought his son – his son! – in to a very dangerous investigation. A case which Frank has no business being a part of. Sam knew that. Laura knew that. And there was no doubt that Frank knew it as well. Still the boy had never hesitated. He took time from school, flew to the other side of the world, and placed himself in the sights of the deadliest criminal organization in the world.

All because Fenton had asked.

And now those same criminals had his son – his son! – and there was no question what would happen next. There would be no late night phone calls; no terrifying warnings; no next time. These people were going to kill his son.

All because Fenton had asked.

Trying one more time to gain control over his overpowering emotions, the father took a deep. He opened the door to his car and climbed it. He wiped at the water dripping from his face and started the car. It idled for a moment, as he realized he didn't know where to begin.

The cell phone in his pocket rang and without much thought as to who it might be, he answered. "Fenton Hardy."

"_Fenton, it's Doug. I just got the call. I am so sorry about Sam."_

"The Marshals," he said, having only half heard the man on the other end. "Did they have families?"

There was a pause before the federal agent answered. _"Yea, they did. But Fenton, this was their job. It's hard, but they've been prepared for something like this."_

"No one can prepare for this, Doug." Fenton sighed, leaning back into the seat. "They took Frank. They shot Sam. Was this all a mistake, Doug? Taking this case?"

"_I don't know what to tell you, Fenton,"_ Doug answered diplomatically, _"but I can promise you that as of this moment every resource we've got it focussed on finding your son. We have several known Yakuza under surveillance as well as people they've used from other organizations."_

"I'm heading to Bayport PD," he said as he came to the decision. "I have friends there that will be willing to help me at this end. Maybe we can get something before…"

"_We'll do what we can, Fenton. I promise you. Keep me informed?"_

"You too, Doug."

The ride from the hospital to the police station was made in silence. Fenton's mind raced through everything about the case up to this moment, focussing on the previous nights events. Something was there to give him a clue, an idea of where to begin the search for his son, he could feel it. He just wasn't sure what it was.

He found it no surprise that Chief Collig was waiting for him at the front desk. He was, however, surprised by the lack of personnel inside the building.

"Agent Phillips called us," Ezra explained. "I've got every available office out there looking for him. I would have issued an AMBER alert, but Frank's an adult. Still, we've got a hell of a lot of men looking for him. State troopers have been notified, highway patrol, even called Chief Peterson in the city. They've got an APB for Frank and Sam said he'll get the word out to Jersey. I think WCBSTV even has Frank's picture airing with the story every fifteen minutes. Someone's going to see him, Fenton."

Relief flooded through the private detective. "Thank you."

Collig clapped his friend on the back and guided him through the station. "We've got a hotline set up in the media room. Agent Phillips should be here within the hour, so everything's coming back here."

Fenton couldn't believe his eyes, or his ears. Only moments before he had felt so hopeless, so lost, that he had been certain that he would never see Frank alive again. But now he believed there was a chance.

"We got hospital surveillance," one of the uniformed officers hurried into the media room thirty minutes later. He gave the disk to Chief Collig as well as several photos. "Their faces are as clear as day, and we've got them taking the Hardy boy out of a side door."

"All those doors are monitored with security cameras," Fenton stood beside Ezra and looked over the other man's shoulder at the pictures. His stomach churned at the image of his son, apparently unconscious, being wheeled through a door in a wheelchair. "Any image of what they were driving."

Ezra felt a smile creeping at the corners of his lips as he flipped to the next picture. "The boy's van; they're driving Frank and Joe's van."

"Frank had it when he was taken last night," Fenton said. "We never found it."

"It went south on Medford Avenue, and we got it on a red light camera turning east on Main Street. Officer Riley is working with traffic control trying to track it. "

Despite the wealth of information that was suddenly before them, Fenton felt his stomach sour. "They're not being very careful." It was said more to himself, but Ezra and the other officers picked up on it easily.

"Fenton?"

"Think about it, Ezra," Fenton's unease grew. "They're using the boy's van, knowing that we're still looking for it. They allowed themselves to be caught on video tape. Main Street has the most traffic cameras, so why go that route? They're making it too easy to follow them. Why?"

There was no answer to give, but then Fenton wasn't looking for one. He knew the answer already.

If he could follow them, he could find the body.

"Sir?" Collig's assistant hesitantly called to the chief, obviously not wanting to interrupt. The woman was standing at a table with several other people manning telephones. She held several papers in her hand and a horrified expression on her face. "I think we've got something, Sir."

Ezra glanced at his friend, wondering at the toll this was taking on Fenton, before giving his attention to the officer. "What is it?"

"We're getting several reports of an officer down, Sir." She took a steadying breath before walking across the room and handing Ezra the papers. "Several people have called into 911 about a highway patrolman that was gunned down just west of Melville on the 495."

"On the Expressway?"

"Eye witness reports say he was on the side of the road with a large black van. The patrolman was shot and… and fell into traffic. The van took off, continuing west. Raymond PD in Levittown is responding."

"Melville's only about 30 minutes away," Fenton mused.

Ezra nodding, knowing what was going through the man's mind. "Go. I'll contact you on your cell if I get anything from RPD."

As Fenton was racing from the building, his phone began to ring. He fished it out of his pocket, and glanced at the display. It was Joe, but he'd be damned if he was going to allow another son get involved with the Yakuza.

He wasn't going to make that mistake again.

--HBHBHB--

The rain was so heavy now, that it was nearly impossible to see the back fence from the window in the kitchen. He'd been watching it for some time, since the first of the drops had begun to fall onto the greening grass. Lost in thought, he wasn't entirely certain of the time that had past. He knew it was considerable, since the setting sun had all but disappeared beneath the horizon. Dusk had come and gone, and night was settling with a frightening finality to the day.

A soft hand on his shoulder brought Joe back to his surroundings and he offered his girlfriend a waning smile. "Hey."

"He'll call, Joe," the leggy blonde stood behind him and wrapped her arms comfortingly around his waist, resting her chin on his shoulder. "It's only been a couple of hours."

"More than long enough to kill someone and dispose of their body," he answered grimly. He hadn't meant to say it out loud, but the words had escaped before he could stop them.

"You can't think that," Vanessa's voice held no comfort for him. "You always told me that you would know; that you would feel it if…"

"That's just it," he looked around, afraid someone else might hear him. When he was assured it was just he and Vanessa he continued. "I can't. Feel him. I try, I think of him, and its just… he's gone; ever since we argued at the hospital."

Vanessa stroked his hair gently and kissed his cheek softly. "Oh baby."

"I sat in that waiting room for an hour or more, just sitting there doing nothing. Now, I'm still doing nothing. Just waiting for someone else to give me what I need to find him. It's been three hours, Van, since they took Frank from the hospital and I'm scared. I think – I know – I'm not going to get my brother back this time."

There was silence between the two, and Joe knew there was nothing she could say to ease his troubled thoughts. After a minute, she lowered her chin and nestled her lips against the nape of his neck. "Listen, Aunt Gertrude took some food and things to the hospital for your mom and Mrs Radley. Callie and I were thinking we'd go sit with them for a while; maybe get an update on Sam."

Joe nodded. "There's no need for you to be here waiting with me."

"Joe, I can stay if you want me to. I want to be here for you, too."

"And do what?"

He could see in her eyes that was not what she had wanted to hear, but he had nothing else to give her. A piece of him was dying somewhere, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

"Walk me out?" She asked, her voice cracking a little.

Taking her by the hand, the two exited the kitchen.

In the entrance way, Callie had already put on her jacket and had her car keys in hand. "You'll let us know when you find out anything?" She asked him while Vanessa donned her things.

"Yea," he answered half-heartedly.

Vanessa kissed him again before the girls said goodbye and left.

He walked into the living room where Tony, Biff, Phil and Chet sat talking quietly. Their whispers stopped when he entered and with a sigh he sat on the ottoman. He leaned forward, his arms resting on his lap, and stared at the phone, willing it to ring.

Biff reached out and placed a hand on Joe's shoulder. "Tony told us, Joe; about Frank going to school in England. That's pretty wild."

"Wild," Joe said with a sigh. "I thought it was a girl."

"Huh?" Chet voiced, confused.

A wry smirk touched the youngest Hardy's lips. "Frank's big secret. I never thought it was anything else. I just figured he got involved with some other girl and didn't feel like telling me. And your evasive answers didn't help the situation any, Prito."

Tony chuckled ruefully. "I'm sorry man, but Frank had sworn me to secrecy. Seriously, we never thought either of us would even hear back from the Oxford Admissions Board. When he got that acceptance letter, it freaked him out."

"I don't know why," Phil joined the conversation. "He's smarter than I am."

Biff scoffed at that. "Dude, you are like the smarted guy in our school."

"Frank got accepted to Brown University while I got wait listed?" Phil smiled and shook his head. "I have to work for it. I spend hours doing extra credit assignments, studying, but that's cool. I like learning stuff. But Frank? It's all natural for him. If he ever got his IQ tested I wouldn't be surprised if it was off the charts."

"He was never tested?" Tony asked.

Joe shook his head. "Mom and Dad wanted him to get tested back in, like, the sixth grade but he said he didn't want to know. Felt it would make him even more of a freak than he already was."

Chet laughed. "Yea, Frank was a bit of a geek back then."

"So says the greatest Dungeon Master Bayport Junior High ever knew," Biff smirked.

"Frank was pretty introverted," Phil said. "I think Chet and I were his only friends that first year."

"It wasn't until you started the seventh grade that Frank started being more like he is now," Chet told Joe. "You got him to try out for the sports teams, got him to realize there was more than just books."

"He owes a lot to you, Joe." Tony nodded. "That's why it was such a hard decision for him when he got accepted to an overseas school."

"Oxford, Brown, I saw a rather large envelope from Notre Dame on his desk the other day…" Joe rubbed a hand over his face, hoping to hide the tears stinging his eyes from his friends. "We always said we'd go to school together; BayU. As long as I can remember, it was always us together. I guess I wanted it more than he did."

"Not at all." Tony assured him. "That's why it took him so long to make his decision. He wanted it too. But Oxford, he told me that if graduated from the Center of Criminology it would be easier for the two of you to get your international PI Licences."

Joe's head snapped up at that. "He said that?"

"Yea," Tony smiled at the look of surprise on Joe's face.

"Does that really surprise you?" Phil asked.

"Not me," Chet chortled. "He may have decided to go to a different school, but there's no way he'd do anything else but be your partner. It's not physically possible."

"I think he'd sprain something if he even tried," Biff smirked.

Frank never said he didn't want to follow their dream, working along side their father in their own agency. Hardy and Sons, the greatest private investigators on the northeast.

The phone rang shrilly, startling the five boys from each of their private thoughts. It rang twice more before the shock of the sound wore off and Joe was leaping for the phone.

"Yes?"

"_Brooklyn."_

Joe's heart leapt at Gray Man's voice. "Brooklyn?"

"_168 John Street, some place called Tuck-It-Away Storage.'_

"And he just volunteered this information?"

"_Let just say that my people are very good at getting answers from people who don't want to answer."_

"Right, 168 John Street."

"_Look, Joe. I know you're probably not going to listen to me, but my suggestion is to leave this to the pros. The 'Family' that runs this storage building are nearly as ruthless as the Clan your brother managed to mixed up with. In all likelihood, Frank is dead and his body dumped in the East River."_

"Then why are you telling me this, Gray?" Joe snarled into the phone.

"_Because according to the Ambassador, this Yamaguchi-gumi Clan wouldn't have taken him if they planned on killing him outright. There's a chance he's still alive. A slim chance, but a chance none the less."_

"Thank you, Gray."

"_I'll start notifying the necessary agencies."_

Joe dropped the phone back on its cradle and turned to his anxiously waiting friends. "Brooklyn."

"So what are we waiting for?" Biff got to his feet.

"Chet, I'd like you to go to the hospital. Tell the girls and my mom what's going on."

"Gotcha."

"Tony can you go to the police station? If my Dad's anywhere, he's most likely there working on getting a lead. If not, Chief Collig should know how to get him."

"Definitely."

"Phil, could you stay here? In case any news comes you can relay it to all of us."

"Sure, Joe."

"Biff-"

"Oh no, you're not handing me some bogus assignment," Biff growled. "I'm going with you, man. You're going to need the extra muscle."

Joe grinned, grateful for the support of his friends. "Wouldn't want you anywhere else, Biff."

"Here," Phil fished a set of keys from his pocket and tossed them to Joe. "My car's faster than Biff's dad's truck. You can get there faster."

"Thanks Phil." Joe glanced at his friends and felt the hope in his heart for the first time in hours. "Let's go get Frank."


	11. The Storm

**Author's Note:**

Thank you Frankette, Chromde & UKFan for your reviews.

I also want to take a moment to thank my Hubby for his help. As a former Kenjitsu instructor he helped me a lot with what happens in this chapter. So thanks hon. =)

Enjoy!

* * *

CHAPTER 11: THE STORM

The fist came flying in again, hard and fast. Frank felt the single blow knock him back, threatening to take him down, but he knew he was dead if he did. Immediately he took an offensive stance, body tense and at the ready. As of that moment, no one else in the room mattered besides his opponent.

When Gunman moved in, Frank attacked.

He went at him with a forward kick, blocked easily by the large man's arms. A second kick, to the side, was slower than if he'd been fighting on a good day and blocked. Gunman retaliated with a vicious fist backhanded across his face. First the right, then the left, then the right again; each strike staggered him further down toward oblivion. A fourth hit split his lip and broke a tooth, sending him to the concrete floor in a dizzied heap.

_Get up Hardy! You've fought bigger goons than this!_

Pushing the jagged piece of tooth with his tongue, he spit it and a mouthful of blood onto the floor in front of him. He was getting to his knees as Gunman stepped toward him again; swaggering as though the fight was already determined. But Gunman had forgotten one thing: Frank was fighting for his life.

Gunman towered over the boy, but Frank was ready for him. He moved quickly, pulling his fist back and driving it into the man's groin as hard as he could. Gunman's eyes went wide as his breath was driven from his lungs. Frank scrambled to his feet while Gunman fell to one knee.

Frank took a step back, momentarily allowing his opponent to regain his breath, before he remembered that this was not a tournament. This was life or death – his life or death. He couldn't afford to be merciful.

He stepped forward, his body twisting as he delivered a roundhouse kick to the side of Gunman's head. The man fell to his side, rolling quickly out of the way when Frank brought his heel slamming down onto the floor where Gunman had been a second before.

The larger man kip-upped to his feet and met Frank's advances with renewed vigour. He had misjudged the boy; a mistake he wasn't going to make again.

The two combatants faced off again, punches and kicks rapidly being thrown and blocked. A side kick to a shoulder; a narrowly ducked right cross; a body blow followed quickly by a fist hooked against a kidney.

Despite his bulk, Gunman moved as quickly as the leaner Hardy. He managed to grab the boy's shoulders, pulling Frank down as Gunman drove a solid knee into his chest. Pain exploded through his ribcage but was quickly pushed aside when a vicious elbow hit his back between his shoulder blades.

The strike staggered him, and Gunman used his weakened state to spin him around and throw him through the air.

One of the men moved out of the way just as Frank would have collided with him, letting the boy fly a few more feet before painfully hitting the floor. Gunman was moving as soon as he hit the ground, and Frank barely got to his feet before Gunman was on him again.

Frank brought his hands up defensively around his head, protecting it from the fists and elbows that were directed at him. Kicks landed again and again on his body, weakening him with every blow. His legs started to buckle beneath him, and with another kick to his side, Frank fell to one knee.

Seeing his opponent falter, Gunman wrapped his arms around Frank's torso, pinning the boy's arms to his side, and began to squeeze as he lifted him off the ground.

Immediately, the pain in Frank's ribs flared again. He heard and felt them pop inside his chest. His lungs burned for air, but he could not breathe against the vice-like grip. The seconds ticked by, the pain growing ever stronger. Darkness began to creep at the edges of his vision.

A last resort, Frank leaned his head back and snapped it forward. His forehead connected painfully with the bridge of Gunman's nose. A burst of crimson splattered both of them as the delicate cartilage broke. The hold loosened, but Gunman didn't let go.

Eyes watering from the sudden pain, Gunman twisted his body and once more tossed Frank through the air. The boy's body landed on the surface of the table in front of Etsuko, the wood splintering beneath him. The mobster scrambled out of the way as the table completely collapsed a second later.

Lying among the broken pieces of wood, Frank gasped for the air he desperately needed. His head was swimming and his body was bruised and sore. He wanted to let the darkness take him, to just get it over with and end it.

_You're not quitting on me, are you big brother?_

Joe's voice pierced through the haze that overwhelmed him.

_Why would you do that when you know I'm coming for you?_

The world around him was moving in slow motion.

_Get up! Keep fighting, Frank._

Gunman was coming at him again, and even with the pain throughout his body Frank found himself climbing to his feet.

With a renewed determination, Frank moved forward to meet Gunman head on. He shifted the weight of his body, twisting around quickly, and slammed his heel squarely into Gunman's chest. Gunman staggered back, but stepped forward as he swung a deadly backhand at Frank's head. Frank ducked, retaliating with several rapid punches to the man's sternum.

Sensing Gunman's body tense in anticipation of the coming blows, he shifted his target from the body to the face. His left fist struck the temple and he followed swiftly with a powerful uppercut that sent Gunman reeling. He collided with one of the suited men surrounding them, and as the two fought to keep their balance, Frank pressed his attack. He launched himself into the air, planted his foot on the chest of the other man, and used him to gain momentum as he turned in the air and sent another roundhouse kick across Gunman's head.

Arms wind-milling, Gunman stumbled back.

_Take him down!_

Stunned, Gunman couldn't defend himself against the flurry of fists and kicks, elbows and knees. Frank was relentless, driving the man to near unconsciousness. Gunman's legs gave out and he fell, face first, to the concrete.

Breathing hard, Frank pressed his heal against the back of Gunman's neck.

It would be easy.

Just a little more pressure; snap the neck with little effort.

So very easy…

"Finish it, Mr Hardy," Etsuko's voice brought Frank back to reality. "Kill him and you walk away."

Frank looked down at his fallen opponent. Gunman was bruised, bleeding, broken.

There were lines Frank refused to cross. Killing was one of them.

Even if it meant his life.

Slowly, he lifted his foot of the prone man's neck and shook his head. "He's beaten. Isn't that enough?"

It wasn't.

He was grabbed by one of the suited men, his arms pulled painfully behind his back. His body screamed in protest but Frank remained silent. Etsuko approached, his hand reaching beneath the jacket of his suit and producing a small pistol.

"You fight well for one so young," the mobster complimented as he walked toward him. "A shame you would not finish."

"I'm not a killer." There was bravado in Frank's voice that even he was surprised to hear.

"No, I suppose you're not." Etsuko aimed the weapon and pulled the trigger.

Gunman never knew it was coming; the bullet piercing the back of his skull where he lay.

Frank waited for the second shot to sound, but it never came.

"You beat my associate." Etsuko placed his weapon back in the inside of his jacket. "But you did not kill him." Several men fell into step behind Etsuko as he started for the elevator. Driver and another remained behind, along with the thug holding him in place.

The grip on his arms tightened and Frank's body tensed as Driver approached him. There was a menacing gleam to the man's dark eyes and he pulled something from his pocket. He slipped the brass knuckles over his fingers and curled them into a fist.

"Sorry Kid," Driver said as a second set was donned on his other hand, "nothing personal."

Etsuko nodded to Driver as the freight elevator gate slid into place. "See to it that Mr Hardy wishes he had lost the fight."


	12. In the Eye

**Author's Notes:**

I think this is the most reviews I've got for a chapter so far in this story, so to all of you that have taken the time to do so I think you profusely! My Muse thanks you as well.

Now, speaking of the Muse... He has not been entirely cooperative lately. He has hijacked me on several occasions since the last chapter (hence the delay in updating) and was holding me hostage until I started working on another story for another Fandom. That said, I think he and I have come to an understanding and hopefully he will keep to the terms of our agreement. We're about halfway with this story, and its all up in my head, so hopefully updates won't be too long inbetween.

So, Enjoy! (Remember, the more you review, the faster I write *Grin*)

* * *

Chapter Twelve: In the Eye

Joe's fist pounded against the steering wheel as he was forced to slow the car down. "You've got to be kidding me!"

Westbound traffic on the Long Island Expressway was slowed down to a crawl. Just outside of Melville, the cars were backed up for more than a mile. Up ahead they could see the flashing blue and red lights of police vehicle.

"We've made good time, Joe," Biff tried to calm his friend. "Once we get past this you can floor it again and we'll get there."

"Yea," Joe reached for his cell phone on the dash and hit redial. Yet again, his father's phone went to his voice mail. Sighing in aggravation, Joe left another message. "Dad, call me!"

The car crept forward, the only sound for a few minute that of the wiper blades swiping the last of the rain from the windshield. Stars were peaking out from behind the dissipating clouds, and the sudden thought that perhaps the storms had finally passed crossed Joe's mind.

A minute later, a patrolman in a rain slicker directed the four lanes of slow moving traffic into one. As they approached the scene, they watched the police moving about the scene. A gurney carrying a body bag was lifted into the back of a coroner's van.

"Must have been some accident," Biff commented.

"Yea," Joe mumbled, impatiently waiting as they moved.

"Uh, Joe?" Biff reached out a hand and placed it on his friend's arm. "Isn't that your Dad's car?"

Joe's head snapped to where Biff was pointing. The dark sedan was parked just ahead of several police cruisers along side a SUV. "What the hell…"

As soon as thy passed the police barricades, traffic sped up almost instantly and Joe was able to pull the car over to the side of the road. They got out and started back toward the crash scene. One of the many officers saw them and moved to intercept.

"I'm sorry, guys, but you shouldn't be here."

With an angry gesture at the parked sedan, Joe tried to keep his temper in check. "That's my father's car. Fenton Hardy. I need to talk to him."

The officer glanced over his shoulder. "If he's here, he's most likely busy kid."

"It's an emergency," Joe said hotly. "Can you find him, please?"

--HBHBHB--

_Silently, more than a dozen black clad shadows stormed into the ten story building. With their body armour, assault riffles at the ready, they rushed to the stairwell. Their heavy soled boots thudded rhythmically as they climbed the cement stairs. _

_They past the door to the second floor and a pair of men broke off and ran through the door._

--HBHBHB--

"What are you doing here?"

Joe only had to wait a few minutes before Fenton was walking toward the police barricade. "Biff saw your car and I needed to talk to you."

"You shouldn't be here, Joe."

"You should answer my calls then!" Joe snapped. Seeing his father, he realized just how furious he was. Next to him, he heard Biff tactfully excused himself as the other boy went back to the car. Joe remained. "For all I knew, you'd been taken or hurt or worse!"

The rain had soaked through his father's coat and he was beginning to look like a drowned rat. He sighed, wiped a hand down his face, and shook his head. "I'm fine, Joe. Now please, go home."

--HBHBHB--

_The sprint up the stairs continued, faint radio bursts of communication sounding over earpieces hidden beneath balaclavas. The group ran around a corner, systematically climbing the floors as another pair broke off and entered the second floor door. _

--HBHBHB--

"I called Gray," Joe said flatly. He got the reaction he was looking for when Fenton finally met his eyes.

"Why would you-"

"Well you weren't answering and I needed some information if I was going to find Frank, now wasn't I?"

Fenton pursed his lips and scowled. "Joe, you are not to get involved in this. This is not your fight."

"Not my fight?" Joe hissed through clenched teeth. "They kidnapped my brother, doing God knows what to him, last night; they tried to kill Sam; and now they've taken Frank again! Tell me again how this isn't my fight!"

--HBHBHB--

_The door leading from the stairwell to the third floor swung open and two shadowed men stormed through. _

_The remaining armed men kept climbing._

--HBHBHB--

"They will kill you if you get in their way," Fenton tried. "I've already lost Frank and I won't lose you as well."

"You talk like you know he's dead!" Joe leaned his hands on the wooden plank of the barricade and glowered at the man he. "What do you know, Dad?" When his father hesitated, Joe snarled, "Tell me what you know, damn it!"

"Do not take that tone with me," Fenton growled back. "I am still your father!"

"Do you know anything?!"

"Joe-"

"No, seriously Dad; do you have anything on where they may have taken Frank, or are you just standing roadside in the rain waiting for someone else to save your son for you?"

--HBHBHB--

_Sergeant Street separated from his team, bursting through the door to the forth floor with his partner right beside him. His riffle was gripped tightly in hand, the light attached to it illuminating where it was aimed. _

_It was the first sweep of the loft-like space that revealed the body on the floor._

--HBHBHB--

He's gone too far. He knew that when his father's hand shot out and backhanded him across the jaw. But it wasn't the blow that stung him. It was seeing the man he respected most in the world crumbling before him.

Joe stretched his jaw, relieving it of the ache that had begun to form. "Nice, Dad."

Fenton looked appalled at his hand. "Son, I-"

"I've got a lead," was all the boy said, "And I thought you'd want to know."

It took a few seconds for the seasoned investigator to compose himself. "Gray?"

"Yea. His people got in to see the Ambassador in Tokyo; got him to talk. Gray gave me an address in Brooklyn. Biff and I are on our way there to meet up with the team the Network's sending in."

Fenton nodded. "You drive, I'll follow."

--HBHBHB--

_Street knelt beside the body, careful not to disturb the pool of blood that was already congealing around the corpse. His partner stood right behind him, turning in a circle as his riffle light lit up the surrounding area. There was no doubt the guy was dead, the bullet hole to the back of the head was evident of that, and looking at the face of the man he shook his head._

"_Not the one we're looking for," he muttered._

_In the shadows, a faint moan sounded._

--HBHBHB--

Joe slammed the door shut before starting the engine. He felt Biff's eyes on him, but the other boy tactfully remained silent. His eyes fell onto the digital clock in the dash. It was after nine; more than four hours since Frank had been taken from the hospital.

Brooklyn was still an hour away.

Putting the car in gear, Joe pulled smoothly into traffic. He checked only once to see if his father was following before he accelerated and the car shot forward.

He could only prayer that where they were heading was the right place.

And that they weren't too late.

--HBHBHB--

_A gloved hand shot into the air, signalling to his partner for silence. _

_The sound had been so faint, the Sergeant wasn't sure he'd actually heard it. Understanding what was at stake, however, urged him into action. He motioned for his partner to go one direction; Street was going to go the other. _

_Despite their heavy gear, the two moved in near silence as they began the sweep of the empty expanse. It was Street who found the broken remains of a folding table. _

_He could see the light from his partner's weapon in his peripheral, and turned his head when the light suddenly dropped to the floor. _

"_Kates?" He hissed into the darkness._

_There was no immediate answer, but he heard the echo of his partner's sudden intake of air._

"_Answer me, damn it, Kates!" _

_There was another brief pause before the answer was reverberating through the floor. "Sweet Mary, Mother of God! Sarge, we need a medic! NOW!" _

--HBHBHB--

In the quiet dark of the car speeding down the interstate, Joe Hardy's cell phone rang.


	13. Luck of the Hardy's

**A/N:** _This was not an easy chapter to write. I struggled with how far to actually take it. Do I go into great detail or do I just hint at things and let the reader connect the dots. I've gone back and forth I don't know how many times, and I'm still unsure if I've made the right decision. I hope you'll review and let me know._

_Red: Thank you for your help with this chapter. =)_

_-Liz_

* * *

Chapter Thirteen: Luck of the Hardy's

He had heard the horror stories. Read the news reports on hospital waiting times and crowded emergency rooms. But, for a Friday night, Biff had thought that the waiting area of the emergency room of the Brooklyn Hospital Center would have been busier than it was.

As soon as they inquired at the triage desk, Joe and Biff were directed to the waiting area after being told that Frank had already been moved in to surgery. Minutes later, Mr Hardy arrived and was told that someone would be in to see them as soon as they knew more about his son's condition.

Biff had given the father and son a few minutes to themselves, going outside to use his cell phone. Callie was the first he called, knowing that she and Vanessa were at the Bayport hospital with Mrs Hardy. The news about Frank would be passed on immediately to the frantic mother.

"He's alive, Cal," He said over the line, every word pregnant with relief. He heard her thankful exclamation and smiled. Even though Callie and Frank weren't together anymore, it was obvious both still cared a great deal about each other. "The cops got to him about an hour ago. He's at Brooklyn Hospital Center on Dekalb Avenue. I'll call again when we know more."

It was the same with the rest of the gang. All of them tremendously relieved that their friend's luck had once more held out.

As he hung up on the last call, Biff wondered just how much luck there was left for the Hardy family.

--HBHBHB--

There was nothing to be said.

Fenton sat in a chair across fro his youngest son and, although he wanted to offer some reassurance that Frank was going to be okay, he couldn't find the words.

"What were you doing at that accident?" Joe suddenly asked, his voice hushed in the quiet of the waiting room.

The older man looked up, for the first time unable to read the expression on the young man's face. "It wasn't an accident. A cop was shot and killed. It looks like it's involved with Frank's abduction."

Joe only nodded and looked down at the hands clasped in his lap. "So why weren't you answering my calls?"

There was the question he'd been waiting for. He took a deep breath and hesitated. His son took advantage of the delay.

"The world's deadliest mafia organization took my brother. They had made threats against our family. Was it really so hard to pick up and let me know that they didn't have you? That you were out there looking for Frank?"

And there was the gist of it.

The boy thought that his father had given up on his brother.

"I was ashamed," Fenton admitted with a sigh. "I've made so many mistakes since I took on this case from the State Department. No matter how proud I am of you boys, you are still just boys. I should never have asked Frank to do what he did. He's my son and I willingly put him in harms way.

"I couldn't risk getting you involved, Joe. These people-" He felt the breath hitch in his chest and the tears burned at the edges of his eyes. "They got to Frank. Not just once, but twice. Even with all the precautions we were taking, they were still able to forcibly take him from the hospital. I just… I don't think I could handle it if anything happened to you as well."

The tears were flowing now, there was no stopping them. Everything he'd been feeling since that terrifying phone call came crashing around him. The fear, uncertainty, the guilt, and the regret. It was suddenly too much and the once strong, proud man was breaking.

The chair beside him creaked as Joe moved to sit beside him. He felt his son's gently hand on his beck, rubbing in gentle circles. "Nothing's going to happen to me, Dad. Just don't shut me out again. Okay?"

--HBHBHB--

"Joe?"

Joe's eyes opened at the sound of his name and his head snapped up off his mother's shoulder where he had been dozing. He glanced up at the clock on the wall, noting that he had been in the waiting room almost five hours now. Laura had arrived at the Brooklyn hospital a couple hours ago, and Biff had left shortly after her arrival.

He sat up slowly, rubbing the crustiness from the rims of his eyes. "Is there news?"

Fenton was rising from his chair. "The doctor in charge of your brother's care wants to see your mother and me."

"I'm just supposed to wait here?"

Laura stroked his hair back away from his face before she stood. "We'll be back as soon as we know something."

Reluctant to be left behind, Joe nodded and watched his parents follow a nurse out of the room. There were only gone a minute when his nerves got the better of him and he was jumping from his chair. He hated waiting, but even worse was waiting alone.

He walked the length of the room a couple of times trying to work out the cramps in his legs from sitting so long. Another issue from remaining unmoving for so long was the sudden urge to find a washroom. Joe found the men's bathroom just outside the waiting room, and a moment later he was rinsing the soap from his hands.

As he was reaching for the paper towels he heard the door open. Drying his hands he saw a man in a well tailored suit reflected in the mirror. The man looked at him before turning back to the door and flicking the lock.

Joe stiffened and looked over his shoulder as the man unbuttoned the suit jacket. His heart began to race beneath his chest as the man approached, his stare never wavering from the boy's.

This is not good!

When the man was a couple feet away, Joe bolted. The man lunged from him, but he was the quicker. He ducked under the attack and sprinted for the door. Just as he was turning the lock he was grabbed by the shoulders and flung back into the bathroom. He made a move to rush again, but the man proved just as quick and had latched on to his arm.

He was spun around and slammed face first into the tiled wall. The skin above his eyebrow split open on impact and his arm was twisted painfully behind his back.

Instinctively, Joe pushed against the wall in an attempt to dislodge himself from his assailant. But the man had him at the disadvantage and he was easily pinned against the cold tiles.

"You are Joseph Hardy?"

"Who wants to know?"

His arm was twisted further. "Are you Joseph Hardy?"

"Yea," Joe gritted his teeth against the pain shooting through his shoulder.

"I have a message for your father," the guy hissed in his ear. "Retribution has been taken, the Clan is satisfied. It is over, unless he should decide to pursue this further. You will deliver this message, yes?"

He was seething, knowing that somehow this thug was involved with what had happened to Frank. Still, he was in no position to do anything other than acquiesce. "Yea."

"Good boy."

A fist clenched through his hair and pulled his head back viciously. A second later it was thrust back against the wall and the stars exploded across his vision. He was released and his body slumped to the floor, dazed, and blood seeping from the gash above his eyes.

"Incentive, to stay out of the Clan's business in the future." Something heavy dropped into his lap. "Enjoy the show."

It was nearly a full minute before he was able to focus and by then the guy was long gone. Joe looked at the object in his lap and felt his heart begin to race at the sight of the portable DVD player.

He sat up, resting his back against the wall. His hands were trembling as he opened the player and started the disk. The machine whirred as the black screen lit up with the video playback.

Joe's stomach lurched as the unsteady camera focussed on his brother's face.

"Ah, Mr Hardy," A voice off camera began speaking, "thank you for joining us."

"Did I have a choice?"

"Or do you prefer Christophersen? That was you name, wasn't it? Jake Christophersen?" There was a pause as Frank refused to answer. "Encourage him."

A sharp intake of air passed through Joe's lips.

There came the sound of flesh striking flesh and immediately Frank's face twisted into an expression of pain. He slid out of frame and the camera jerked about wildly for a moment as the video zoomed out to take in more of the room.

Frank was on his knees, being roughly pulled back to his feet, with his hands bound behind his back. Walking around his brother with a smug look of satisfaction was one of the largest men Joe had ever seen.

Joe felt ill but couldn't bring himself to stop the playback.

"In polite society," the same voice as before was speaking again, "A young man will answer when he is asked a question by his elders. So we will try this again. Did you, or did you not, use the name Jake Christophersen on a recent venture to Tokyo."

There was another pause, and Joe heard himself whispering for Frank to answer.

"Yea."

"Very good, Mr Hardy. The people I work with are not unreasonable people. When your father succeeded in removing our ally from your country's consulate, we were content to leave it go with just a warning. A reminder that we would not be so forgiving should he cross us again. After all, he is a business man and was just doing that which he was hired for. We can appreciate that. After all, a few employees can be replaced."

A figure stepped into the frame, his back to the camera. The man stood directly before Frank. "But you, boy, you took something that did not belong to you; something worth a lot of money to my associates and cannot be so easily replaced. How fortunate for you that we could not find 'Jake Christophersen.' We had almost given up when, to our surprise, Fenton Hardy's son and Jake Christophersen were discovered to be one and the same. Fortune, it seemed had smiled upon us."

A sudden swell of guilt over swept the stunned boy. They could have taken him! If Joe had been used as the message to their father… It had been a coin toss, and Frank had lost.

"So what now? You kill me and dump my body somewhere as another message to my father?"

"Perhaps." The man disappeared off screen again.

Frank was untied and the large brute of a man began removing his jacket.

"But we are honourable people, Mr Hardy. You, too, were just doing a job. But retribution must be taken."

"I told you you'd regret it, Kid." The brute sneered when his shirt had been removed.

The voice from off screen was speaking again. "If you can best my friend, you will be permitted to walk out of this building, and the Clan will not bother you again. The one to kill the other will be declared the victor."

"Oh god," Joe choked back on the bile that burned the back of his throat.

"Begin."

--HBHBHB--

"Mr and Mrs Hardy, please have a seat."

The woman's voice was strained; Fenton could hear that despite her effort to speak casually. His heart was racing as though he'd just run a marathon. As he and Laura sat in the available chairs in the private waiting room, he couldn't recall the last time the boys' injuries had been too severe to speak quietly in the main waiting area.

This room – the one he currently found himself in – was the room they took families to deliver bad news.

"My name is Dr Michelle Kelly," the dark haired woman said once they were seated. "I'm a senior surgical attending here at the hospital, and one of the doctors seeing to your son's care since he was brought in."

"They told me he'd been taken for surgery hours ago," Laura questioned, her worry dripping from every word. "Is he going to be okay?"

Dr Kelly took a steadying breath and leaned in her seat toward the distraught parents. "Mrs Hardy, you son-"

"Frank," Fenton choked on the lump in his throat as he spoke the name. "Is he out of surgery?"

"Frank," a sympathetic smile barely touched the other woman's lips as she shook her head. "When Frank was admitted, he had extensive internal bleeding throughout his chest and abdomen. Until we got the bleeding controlled, we could not assess the extent of his other injuries."

"But you've done that?" Laura pleaded hopefully.

There was a hesitation before the doctor was able to speak. "You have to understand, Mrs Hardy, that your son was severely beaten. His entire body is a mass of bruises of varying degree. The ruptured blood vessels in his chest caused his heart and lungs to compress. When we controlled one bleed, we discovered another. It's taken this long just to stabilize him enough that we are able to attend to his other injuries."

Both parents inhaled sharply at that information and the doctor knowingly remained silent as they processed. Fenton hesitantly reached for his wife's hand, only to draw back before they actually touched.

It was Laura who grabbed onto him for support.

"What other injuries?" the shell-shocked mother asked.

Michelle flipped through the clipboard of papers on her lap. "There was damage to his trachea and his breathing was compromised. The paramedics had to perform an emergency tracheotomy before they could transport. X-rays showed multiple stress fractures to the cartilage rings of the trachea, which is consistent with repeated strangulation."

Laura covered her mouth with her free hand, squeezing her eyes shut and tightening her hold on her husband's hand. Fenton reached across the distance between the chairs and put his arm around her, silently nodding to the doctor to continue.

Dr Kelly cleared her throat, and it was obvious her professional detachment was weakening. ""Frank also has several facial fractures including the zygoma, or cheekbone, the orbit or bones surrounding the eye socket and an open fracture of the mandible, or jawbone. Since the injury to his jaw is an open fracture into his mouth – resulting in several broken and displaced teeth – we will insert a plate and wire the bones back into alignment. We will also have to wire his jaw shut to ensure the bones stay in place while healing."

The woman took a steadying breath, willing herself to keep here eyes from the quietly weeping mother, and continued. "There are two injuries that are our biggest concerns right now. The first is the basilar skull fracture – a fracture at the base of the skull." Even keeping her eyes from making direct contact, Dr Kelly could see the mixture of horror and confusion in their eyes.

Reluctantly, she lifted her eyes and explained. "The basilar bone is part of the occipital bone, or the floor of the skull where the brain is held. This kind of fracture is the rarest form, usually caused by a blow to the back of the head, and unfortunately there is no real way to treat it. We will need more tests to ensure there have been no tears in the sack compartment that holds the brain. If there has been damage and the cerebral spinal fluid is leaking, we may have to consider surgery to repair the injury."

"Oh god…" Laura moaned, turning into her husband and burying her face in his shoulder.

Fenton stroked a shaky hand over her hair. He fought to control his own overpowering emotions. "You said there were two," he prompted the doctor.

The physician nodded. "Both Frank's kidneys were badly bruised in the attack," she stated grimly. "I'm afraid that the contusions to the left organ were considerable and we were unable to contain the bleeding. We had no other option but removal."

Laura's head snapped up with a gasp. "You took his kidney?!"

Dr Kelly continued. "Frank is young, strong, and if he survives he will be able to lead a relatively normal – albeit cautious – life with one kidney."

Silence descended on the trio with a crushing finality.

Fenton once again felt the icy grip constrict his heart and it took him a moment to find his voice again. "If…?"

This was the part of her job that Doctor Michelle Kelly hated. She sat the clipboard on her lap and leaned forward, her head low with regret. "Frank's condition is critical, Mr and Mrs Hardy. We will do all we can for him but, with the severity of his injuries and the blood loss, I think you need to prepare yourselves for the worse."


	14. Luck Only Lends

_**A/N: **I've gone back and made some minor edits to Chapter 13. A reviewer had pointed out the unliklihood of a thug waiting in the bathroon on the off chance Joe would show up at some point. I've adjusted that sequence, and hopefully it works better this way. I think it does. _

_Thank you to everyone that has reviewed and has this story on alert. It makes it easy to keep writing when I know people are reading. Although, it does take some time to get the chapters out, I'm afraid. Especially the last couple. This one is no exception. I wrote and rewrote it several times before I finally settled on a draft I was happy with. Well, relatively happy anyway. _

_WARNING: Something that was foreshadowed in an earlier chapter is confirmed in this one, but does not go into details. _

_Enjoy, and please let me know what you think. I'm even a fan of the Flames, as they are good for roasting Marshmallows, so if you don't like it let me know that too. _

_-Liz_

* * *

Chapter Fourteen: Luck only Lends

Dr Kelly had left the distraught parents in the private sitting room, giving them the time they needed to compose themselves. Laura allowed herself to give in to the terrifying grief that held her hostage and she broke down in her husband's arms.

It was too much.

A fractured bone here, a concussion there, even drug induced comas; those injuries she could handle. But this was something entirely different. Frank was fighting for his life. A battle which, according to the doctor, he was going to lose.

As always, Fenton's strong arms were wrapped lovingly around her but offered her no comfort this time. He was stroking her hair, whispering in a choked voice that everything was going to be okay. The absurdity of that statement nearly banished her grief in an instant, replacing it with fury.

"No," She shook her head and extracted herself from his hold. Laura wiped at the tears on her face and cleared her throat. "No, Fenton, everything is not 'okay'. It's about as far away from 'okay' as it could possibly get."

"He's going to pull through-"

"You don't get to make that promise!" She snapped, turning her head to glare at her husband. "You don't know! You don't get to sit there and gloss over the fact that our son may not…" she trailed off, unable to actually voice what they both knew.

Taking a steadying breath, Laura stood from the chair and hooked her purse over her shoulder. Without a word, she left the small room and went looking for her youngest. She would need to tell him about his brother; to prepare him in the event Frank didn't make it.

She was aware of Fenton following behind her as they made their way back toward the emergency waiting room, grateful for his presence. The news of their eldest son's condition was not going to be easy for youngest. Laura didn't know if she'd be able to keep a positive front as she told Joe but knew that Fenton would be able to assure the boy that his brother would pull through.

If only she could believe that herself.

When they first approached the waiting area, she didn't notice the security staff milling about the nurses desk or the men's bathroom. All she noticed was the Joe was not actually in the waiting room. That was when she saw Agent Philips walking away from the group of security guards and toward her and Fenton.

"Doug?" Fenton seemed as surprised as she was to see the federal agent there. "What are you doing here?"

"I hadn't heard from you," the man explained with an air of hesitancy. "I wanted to see if you'd had any news about Frank."

Her husband took a breath, about to answer the man, when Laura recognized the look in the agent's eyes. Phillips was stalling. "Have you seen Joe?" She interrupted, and immediately saw the guilt in the man's face.

"He didn't want us interrupting you while you were with the Doctor," Agent Phillips said slowly. "He's going to be fine."

Laura was off in a heartbeat, stalking the short distance to the nurse's desk. "Where is my son? Joe Hardy?"

The nurse on duty was scanning her charts as Laura half listened to the conversation between Doug and Fenton. "The nurse had said she'd seen him go into the bathroom," the agent was telling her husband, "but he hadn't come out yet. I'm sorry, Fenton. I didn't think there was a threat-"

"Exam room three," the triage nurse pointed to the room where two US Marshals were standing guard.

She glared accusingly at both men behind her as she was hurrying toward the exam room.

Inside, the young resident was just taping a piece of gauze over the stitched up gash when Laura entered. All anger faded as she looked over her son, noticing the bruising the surrounded the bandage. "Oh, Joey…"

The boy smiled weakly at his mother as she was suddenly next to him, caressing the unmarred side of his face. "I'm okay, Mom. It's not that bad."

"Looks pretty bad to me," she said with a sigh and a nod toward the blood that stained the collar of his shirt. She looked at the doctor expectantly and wasn't disappointed.

"Seven stitches to close," the man answered her unasked question. "Doesn't look like he has a concussion, but it wouldn't hurt to watch him over the next few hours."

"Like a hawk," the mother turned back to her son. "What happened?"

It was Joe's turn to sigh. "If I think about it, I don't think he was going to hurt me."

The doctor excused himself with instructions to keep the area clean. Laura said she would help with that and waited until the man was gone before asking Joe, "Who?"

"I think he was part of the Yakuza Clan Dad and Frank…" he trailed off when he saw the anger flit across his mother's face. "He was delivering a message for Dad-"

"What, with your face?" She practically growled. The more she heard, the more her anger toward her husband grew.

"Mom," Joe pleaded softly. When she pursed her lips together, he continued. "I only got hurt because I tried to fight him instead of listening."

_Like you were taught to_, she thought bitterly. Instead, she could only sigh again. "What was this message?"

"That it's over, if Dad doesn't push it."

"Which he will," she shook her head, "He can't help himself."

"I don't think he will," Joe disagreed, lowering his head but not before Laura caught the tremor of his lower lip.

"Joe?" She gently took her son's chin between her fingers and lifted his head to look at her. She was surprised to see the tears glistening at the edges of her tormented eyes. "Sweetie, what is it?"

He rubbed his hand down his mouth and chin, over several days' growth of stubble. "The guy left a DVD. It showed… everything. What they did to-" the lump in his throat suddenly swelled, cutting off his words. Joe knew his mother understood when she enveloped him in a near crushing embrace.

She held him as his body shook with the effort of keeping his emotions in check. Held him as struggled to keep his stomach from rebelling, again, as it had on the bathroom floor. Comforted him as he made the silent oath never to tell her what he had seen.

Swore that she would never know that the beatings were not the worst that had been done to her first born son…

--HBHBHB--

Seven more hours.

That was how long Fenton had ended up waiting before he was allowed into the Intensive Care ward of the Brooklyn Hospital Center.

Three hours since the weary father had insisted his youngest take his wife to the suite at the Marriot, which Agent Phillips had arranged for, so they could rest.

Twenty minutes since he stopped outside the door, unable to take those last few steps to enter the room.

Seven hours.

That was how long it had taken the surgeons to finally stabilize his son.

Dr Kelly was the one to find him. She had been with his son most of the time, refusing to leave the operating room again even when fatigue had made it necessary for another surgeon to take over. Dark circles were evident beneath her exhausted eyes as she informed him that Frank was in a coma.

"At this point," she had told him, "that's not a bad thing. His body is doing what it has to, to start to heal." Then she said that they had done all they could for Frank, and now the rest was up to him.

"He's fighting," she assured him, amazement evident in her voice. "By all medical reasoning, he shouldn't have made it through the surgeries, but he has. You have a very strong and stubborn son, Mr Hardy."

"Can I see him?" He'd actually hesitated before he asked.

"When we get him settled in a room," was her answer.

Now, standing outside the room that housed the boy, Fenton was afraid. He had been told what to expect; the bandages and the tubes and the machines. But he was afraid that the last images of his beautiful son were going to be of him bruised and broken... screaming, and that nothing inside that room were going to change that.

He could feel the pity filled eyes of the nurses watching him from their station. He looked to them, feeling ill at their reassuring smiles, and turned back to the closed door.

It was with trembling steps that he finally approached the door and entered the darkened room.

Fenton didn't know what he had been expecting, but he had not been expecting what he saw. A shudder swept over him as his eyes fell onto the form lying deathly still in the bed.

An arched, metal framework encompassed the boy's torso, giving his battered body the stability Frank was unable to on his own. A ventilator was attached to the tracheotomy opening, just below the Adams apple, and several other tubes and wires connected his son to the equipment that was keeping him alive.

A thick pad of gauze was taped securely over his son's left eye, and what he could see of the right was a deep black color and swollen. Most of the boy's face was covered in dressings, the rest a myriad of deep bruising, and he silently wished he hadn't watched the DVD Doug had shown him after his wife had left.

Every bruise was a strike by the cowards that had beat his boy to the brink of death. Every broken bone was a scream of pain that echoed nightmarishly inside the father's head. Every injury was a testament to the strength of his son.

And yet, Fenton found it hard to look for more than a few seconds.

The final images of the video seared his soul to think of them, and to look at Frank was to remember him pleading for death as the men repeatedly strangled him into submission then proceeded to sodomize him - again and again.

Until unconsciousness took him and he was punched and kicked and left broken and dying.

The father barely made it to the bathroom before he was on his knees and heaving into toilet. His stomach had purged itself of everything he'd eaten the first time he watched the DVD, and the painful retching was a small price to pay for his folly.

For putting his son in that hospital bed.

He rinsed his mouth with cool water before returning to Frank's side.

Pulling a chair as close to the bed as possible, Fenton sat and examined the boy one more time. He wanted to touch him, to give Frank that amount of small comfort, but he was afraid to cause him more pain. However, he remembered Dr Kelly mentioning that most of the damage had been to Frank's face and torso.

So Fenton allowed himself to place a hand on the blanket covering the younger Hardy's legs.

Tears stained the man's cheeks as he gently massaged his son's leg. "I'm sorry, Frank."

"I am so very sorry…"


	15. After the Rain

**A/N:** Do I have any notes this time? I can't think of any, other than to thank those who reviewed the last chapter. So you know what, let's just get on with the chapter then!

-Liz

* * *

Chapter Fifteen: After the Rain

That first day was the hardest.

His family had waited, had wondered, had dared to hope that Frank would come out of the coma. So when, at the end of the day, there had been no change in the boy's condition, Joe had started to question what was going to happen to his family.

The second day was better and worse at the same time.

Better because they had an idea of what to expect this time. Their expectations were realistic now; today they hoped for a sign of improvement. Any sign, no matter how small.

They heard from Ethel before Joe and Laura had left the hotel. Sam had been moved to a regular room and the doctors were confident of a full recovery. It would be hard for the man, as the surgeons had to crack his chest open to remove the bullet from the tissue around his heart. The damage had been extensive, but Sam was fighting and already asking about his release.

Gertrude had arrived first thing that morning with several small suitcases for the members of her family packed and waiting in the trunk of her car. She visited with Frank briefly, leaving the room pale and shaking, before taking their things to their hotel. She returned to Bayport later that afternoon to over see things there.

The day was worse because Joe discovered that his parents could not be in the same room as each other without conversations breaking down into an argument. It had gotten so bad between his mom and dad at one point that a Nurse had to expel them from the ward.

An hour later only Laura came back.

At the end of the day, when Laura had dragged him back to the Hotel while Fenton came to sit with Frank, there had been no change in the comatose boy's condition.

By the third day, the small Hardy family had fallen in to a routine.

Fenton would remain at the hospital during the night, never leaving Frank's side, while Laura and Joe would return to the hotel. In the morning, Joe would arrive first, a coffee for his Father in one hand and a second in the other for himself. They would speak quietly for a few minutes, and then Fenton would leave.

Laura would give her youngest some time alone with his brother before she joined Joe inside the room, never having actually spent any time with the man she was married to.

Frank still showed no signs of change.

The forth and fifth days were much like the third.

Except that everyone was calling.

Ethel would call Laura daily to give her updates on Sam's condition and to ask about Frank. All of Frank's friends were calling Joe, wondering when and if they would be able to go up to visit their friend. They would all be told the same: there was no change and that the hospital in Brooklyn was stricter with their visitor policy than the ICU in Bayport General. Family only and only two visitors at a time.

Neither day saw any improvement in Frank.

The sixth day brought a little change to the routine.

After Fenton had left, Joe was alone with Frank for nearly thirty minutes before he realized his mother hadn't come into the room yet. Wondering where she had gone, he opened the door to the private room a crack when he heard her voice.

She was speaking quietly to Agent Phillips and Dr Kelly just outside the room. "He needs to be home," She was telling the pair, and by her tone of voice there was no room for disagreeing.

Still, the doctor tried. "Mrs Hardy, as my colleagues and I have told you-"

"I know what you've said," Laura snapped, "But you do not know my son. If you want him to wake up, to recover, then he needs to be where his friends and family can be with him without these restrictions."

"I'm sure they'd gladly make arrangements for visitors," Doug tried to calm the woman.

"Of course we would," Dr Kelly readily agreed.

"Although they would in a second and daily if they could, I will not expect my son's friends travel to the city to see him." Her arms crossed over her chest and Joe knew that stance well. She would not be deterred. "Dr Kelly, has Frank's condition changed any?"

"No, but-"

"Does his continued stability prevent him from being moved?"

The physician pressed her fingers to her temple at the sarcastic query. "No. But-"

"Then you must doubt the staff at Bayport General and their ability to care for my son."

"Absolutely not!" The woman exclaimed, appalled at the accusation.

Joe almost smiled at Dr Kelly's expression; the one that said she knew she was beaten.

"You will make the arrangements to have Frank transferred to Bayport General, into the care of Doctors Porter and Bates, by the end of the day or you will be hearing from our Lawyer."

Dr Kelly sighed in resignation, "Of course, Mrs Hardy," and turned to take care of the paperwork.

Agent Phillips what's the woman walk away. "Are you certain this is a good idea, Laura?"

"Don't you dare talk to me about good ideas," she spat venomously at the man. "Don't think for a minute that I've forgotten your part in all of this."

He was not put off by her tone and continued. "If you won't think about the practicality of this, then think about the cost. Your insurance won't cover an elective transfer."

"And that is why your office will be taking care of the cost," she answered matter-of-factly. "The government will be paying all of Frank's medical expenses, Agent Phillips, unless you want to see this story on the front page of ever major newspaper in the country. How do you think the voting public would react to their President being aware of his intelligence agents using a boy to do their job? To getting him kidnapped, raped and beaten nearly to death?"

The man was furious, but he pursed his lip. "Are you threatening the US Government, Mrs Hardy?"

"It's an election year, isn't it?"

Joe smirked at his mother's tenacity.

Slowly closing the door again he made his way back to his chair beside Frank's bed. There was a rare smile on Joe's face as he laid his hand on top of his brother's. "Our mom rocks!"

--HBHBHB--

Eight days.

More than a week had past since the nightmare had begun, and reluctantly Joe found himself steering the van into a parking spot outside Bayport High.

The police had recovered the vehicle at the building where they had found Frank and spent several days clearing it of any evidence. He had only got it back the day before and it felt weird driving it again. Knowing that everything that happened had started in the vehicle made Joe feel like he was betraying his brother somehow by driving it.

Tomorrow he'd drive his motorcycle.

Now that they were home, Frank settled into a private room in Intensive Care at the familiar Bayport General Hospital, his mother had insisted he go back to school. She had argued that none of their friends would be able to come to hospital during school hours and she felt he could use the support they unconditionally continued to offer.

She wasn't wrong.

Standing not far from where Joe had parked, his circle of friends had gathered around Chet's car. As soon as they had seen the Hardy's black van turn into the parking lot they were moving toward him. When he opened the door, Vanessa was the first one there and wrapping her arms warmly around him.

"We're glad you're back," she whispered in his ear as he buried his face in the comforting scent of her hair. "We've been worried about you."

The girls took their turn hugging him, Liz and Callie holding him nearly as tight as his girlfriend had, while the guys showed their pleasure at his return with pats on the back and shoulder squeezes.

He welcomed it all.

"Today's gonna suck," Biff warned him. "With the news alerts that went out last week and the follow up stories, it's all anyone has been talking about."

A pit formed in Joe's stomach.

He knew that several stations had run missing person spots for hours the night Frank was taken from the hospital. Unfortunately, because of it, the media had followed the story for a few days. The government's involvement wasn't mentioned, but Frank's ordeal was the hottest news topic for a while. The abduction and near-death-beating of the son of locally famous private detective Fenton Hardy made for sensational news.

It made Joe sick.

Luckily, the media hadn't known the rest of it.

"Even without the details," Tony added, "people have been tossing around theories and the rumours have gotten pretty bad."

"We've tried to keep them in check," Liz sighed, "but there's only so may of us and a lot more of them. It has gotten a little better though."

Joe eyed the girl closely, noticing for the first time the fading bruise around her eyes. Glancing at Callie, who was suddenly smirking beside Jerry, he saw the mostly healed cut on her. "What happened!?"

Biff started chuckling. "You should have seen it, Man! Emily was going on and on and wouldn't stop – just talking out of her ass, ya know? – and some of what she was saying was pretty nasty."

"You don't want to know," Phil interrupted quietly when he saw Joe was going to ask.

"So I said," Biff continued, "I wished she was a guy so I could deck her to get her to shut her up."

"We did it for him."

He snapped his head around to his girlfriend beside him, seeing the shadow of a bruise on her cheek. His mouth dropped. "No!"

"Oh yea!" Jerry put an arm around Callie's waist and kissed her cheek. "My girl threw down first."

"No one talks like that about one of my best friends," the petite blonde said hotly, "even if he is an Ex."

"Emily's friends got in on it,' Chet took up the story. "One jumped Cal from behind while another sucker punched her."

"That's when Liz and Van joined the fray." Tony grinned.

"We just stood there," Biff shook his head. "None of us guys knew what to do – and it was the same for the guys that had been sitting at Emily's table. Here's this full on cat-fight in the middle of the cafeteria-"

"Wait, this happened during school!?" Joe looked at the three girls grinning like a cat that had just eaten the family hamster. "How were you not expelled?"

"Three day suspensions for fighting," Liz said proudly. "Emily got five for starting the rumours. I'd do it again too just to be the one to have knocked that disgusting grin off Emily's face."

"Sorry Liz," Callie smiled, "maybe next time."

"Knowing what your family was going through," Vanessa said softly beside him as she weaved her fingers around his, "we weren't going to let someone like her keep talking trash about something she knew nothing about."

Joe's free hand cupped her face and his thumb gently caressed the remnants of the bruise. "Have I told you how much I love you?"

The girl smiled and blushed.

"Thank you," he said pointedly looking at each of his friends. "All of you thank you."

No one said anything, but the warmth of the moment obviously touched them as much as it touched Joe.

He coughed, clearing his throat of the lump that had begun to form at his friends concern. "Mom told me to tell you all that you're welcome to visit Frank any time now."

"We've already come up with a schedule," Phil said. "We don't want to overwhelm your parents with us there all at once."

"Mom will appreciate that." Joe sighed. "But you won't have to worry about my Dad. He won't be there during the days."

"They're still fighting?" Chet asked quietly.

"He's moved out," he said sadly. Vanessa's arms were around him again and he found himself clutching to her almost desperately. With everything going on his friends were the only constant he had to cling to. He wasn't macho enough not to take advantage of that. "When I got home last night he was packing up his car. His clothes are all gone and his office has been emptied out."

"Damn," Biff breathed.

"Yea."

Everyone was quiet after that, no one willing to make the first move, until the warning bell sounded. Slowly they made their way toward the building. As they walked, his friends seemed to unconsciously surround him and Joe smiled inwardly. Even without thinking about it, his friends were protecting him from the stares and whispers.

He felt lucky to have them, and with that came hope.

Because how could Frank not wake up when he had friends like this waiting for him.


	16. Even Monkeys Fall From Trees

**A/N:** Okay, so last chapter I kinda forgot to make a note of some minor changes that my beta and I have worked out. It was pointed out to me that the Doctor's could not have missed the physical evidence of rape. Taking that into consideration, I realized that Laura and Fenton would have been told about it during the conversation with Dr Kelly. So yes, Laura knows that Frank was sexually assaulted.

SO now I would like to thank everyone who's been reading and leaving me reviews. I enjoy reading them, and I read them several times when I'm a little stuck. It helps me and The Muse when we know people are waiting for an update. *smiles*

On to the chapter!

-Liz

* * *

Chapter Sixteen: Even Monkeys Fall from Trees

The room wasn't all that different than the one she had just left. Perhaps a little smaller, a little brighter, but the biggest difference for Laura was that the patient in this room was conscious. "Hi Sam."

Normally an imposing figure, Sam seemed impossibly small lying in the hospital bed. He was pale and had obviously lost weight. He was connected to an IV and more wires connected him to nearly half a dozen devices monitoring his condition. Still, his face lit up in a genuine smile when she approached.

"Good to see you," he said, his voice as strong as ever. "I was hoping you'd come by."

She returned the smile. "Before she went home Ethel mentioned you wanted to see me."

He chuckled good-naturedly. "It's all I can do to get her to go home at night to sleep."

"She worries," Laura replied. "It's what the women in a detective's life do. How are you feeling?"

"I've had worse," he said indifferently. "At least I'm getting out of here tomorrow."

A wry grin touched the corner of her lips. "Worse? I really don't think you can get much worse than having your heart stop twice on the operating table."

"They could have been unable to get it started again."

"I suppose that's true," she replied as the grin disappeared from her face. Pulling a chair closer to the bed, she placed a hand over his as she sat. "I'm sorry I haven't been by to see you sooner."

Sam turned his hand so it was holding hers comfortingly. "There's no need to apologise. Your number one concern right now should be Frank. Is Joe with him now?"

She nodded. "He has been since school let out and for most of the evening. I'll be taking him home soon, though. I told him he could sit with Frank and their _father_ while I came to see you."

Although she had tried, the contempt she felt toward her husband sounded loudly in that single word.

The man pursed his lips. "He's been by daily to see me, you know."

"What he does is no longer my business." In her attempt to keep the edge from her voice she replaced it with the one emotion she didn't want to feel.

Regret.

She sighed as Sam just squeezed her hand gently. "You can't blame him any more than he blames himself, Laura."

"He should," she snapped bitterly. "He very nearly got our son killed."

"Fenton made a mistake. One he will never forgive himself for." He shifted his head, ensuring that he met her eyes. "Letting him carry the blame solely for this is just stupid, Laura."

"So who should I blame? Frank?"

"Absolutely not," he said calmly. "What about the men who actually did this? They're the ones who deserve your condemnation and anger."

Her mouth opened to object but Sam interrupted her before she could speak.

"Yes, your husband made a poor judgement call when he involved Frank but he could not have predicted anything like this would have happened as a result. You can't sit there and tell me you honestly believe Fenton would have asked for Frank's help if he had."

"It doesn't change the fact that it happened." She sighed wearily and took her hand from beneath his. "Frank's in a coma, Sam. Fenton may not have physically put him there but his appalling choices did. When Frank comes out of this – and damn it, he is going to survive this! – I will not let it happen again. Fenton is going to have absolutely no influence over my sons again."

A heavy silence hung around them and she could see the reproachful sadness in his eyes; how Sam struggled not to press the issue. Instead, he asked "How is Frank?"

The small smile that touched her lips was warm and genuine. "There's been some improvement. Now that the swelling has lessened and the bruises are fading, Dr Porter doesn't think the facial fractures are as bad as the doctor's in Brooklyn first thought. He's optimistic that Frank won't require any reconstructive surgery."

"That's wonderful news."

Laura nodded. "His blood pressure is up and the EEG is showing an increase in brain activity. Dr Porter says that's to be expected as the skull fracture heals and the pressure to his brain decreases, but Joe swears it's because of all the people visiting since we got back a couple days ago."

"He could be right," Sam chuckled kindly. "Frank has always been a people pleaser and nothing would please us more than if he woke up."

Her smile faltered a little. "There's still the concern that he hasn't shown any signs of coming out of the coma. He doesn't respond to physical stimuli and the monitors don't react when we talk to him. Dr Bates says the longer he's unconscious the more cause for concern there is."

"Give it time, Laura," he said as he reached out to pat her arm comfortingly. "Frank's hurt isn't easily fixed. Not like a bullet to the chest: take out the offending piece of metal, and little more than a week later I'm on my way home to a good wife and a decent meal. It'll take a little more than that for Frank to heal. But he will. He's a Hardy."

She snorted softly and smiled at the thought. "He is stubborn, just like his father."

Sam smirked teasingly. "Oh, I don't think Fenton's the only one who can claim responsibility for that genetic attribute. Both of you are being incredibly stubborn at the moment."

Laura scowled at him and he raised his hands in surrender.

"Okay, okay. No more meddling." He sighed and settled back into the bed. "Go take Joe home. Let this old invalid get some rest. "

--HBHBHB--

A million miles away in her thoughts, Laura wasn't aware of anyone else in the room until the large paper coffee cup was held in front of her. She started, Frank's room coming into focus around her, as she looked up the slender arm before her. "Oh, Callie! You surprised me. Aren't you supposed to be in school?"

The petite girl smiled bashfully and sat beside the older woman. "I cut out a little early," she said when Laura took the coffee cup. "Thought you could use some company. Vanilla caffè latte with a double shot of espresso."

Laura smiled and inhaled the waft of steam that escaped as she lifted the lid. "You are an angel for remembering."

"We've enjoyed coffee together enough times over the years I don't think I'll ever forget." The girl took a sip from her own paper cup. "I didn't think you'd go for one yourself and I know what the hospital's excuse for coffee is like."

Taking a drink, the mother sat back in the chair and regarded the girl beside her. "I suppose our afternoons of coffee and keeping each other company while our boys are off on one of their grand adventures are over."

Callie shrugged. "Just because Frank and I aren't together anymore doesn't mean I'm going to worry about him any less. Probably more, actually."

"I don't think I'll ever understand how he could let you go," Laura said with a soft sigh. "You just seemed so natural together."

A pale pink blush filled the girl's cheeks and her gaze wandered to the young man in the bed. "I used to think so too. I used to compare him and me to you and Mr Hardy. You were both so in love with the other and I used to dream of our marriage being as strong as that."

A frown tugged at Laura's mouth and she shook her head. "Despite what all the poet's say, love isn't always enough." The two women were quiet; the only sound the rhythmic pump-hiss of the ventilator.

Setting the cup aside, Callie stood and walked to Frank's side. "Do you know we broke up?" She asked as she stroked the hair from his forehead.

"He never told me," Laura replied, watching the girl closely, "but I assumed it had something to do with his decision to go to school overseas in the fall."

"I cheated on him." The girl looked over her shoulder at her former boyfriend's mother. Laura stayed quiet, allowing her young friend to speak.

"I was stupid." Callie turned her head back. "I made a mistake and let myself think that there was something – someone – better out there for me. I felt so guilty, even though it was just one time at a party when he and Joe were off on a case. I could have just let it go, with him being none the wiser, but I hated lying to him. So I told him. I told him everything and I thought he would be angry, but he wasn't.

"He just looked at me, held my hand, and told me that everyone makes mistakes. He asked me if I still thought we belonged together and I told him I didn't know. And you know what he did? He blamed himself. He told me that if he had been a better boyfriend that I wouldn't have strayed from our relationship. How stupid is that? I spend a party making out with some random guy, and its all Frank's fault?

"And then he tells me that we'll still be best friends, tells me Jerry was willing to take me to the dance, and then he goes and does something so monumentally stupid like flying off to Tokyo. And now he's laying here and I can't tell him how sorry I am and that if he would give me another chance I would make sure I never hurt him like that again because I know what I did broke his heart because it breaks mine every time I think about it and know that's the reason why he's not with me anymore-"

Laura was beside the nearly hysterical girl quickly, pulling her away from the bed and into a warm embrace. Callie was trembling now, hands covering her face as she cried against the older woman's shoulder, muttering "I'm sorry!" over and over again between sobs.

"Oh sweetie," she whispered in the girl's ear, stroking her hair gently. "He was right. Everyone makes mistakes. And mistakes aren't bad, so long as you learn from them."

She continued to offer comfort to Callie as the heart in Laura's chest started to beat rapidly. She stared at a spot in the wall, her own words echoing inside her mind. _Everyone makes mistakes._

Everyone.


	17. Tempus Fugit: Part One

**A/N: **Sorry for the delay once again. I have a list of excuses, but I'm sure you don't really care about them, so I won't go into details. Thank you again to everyone who's reviewed and been keeping an eye on this story.

-Liz

* * *

Chapter Seventeen: Tempus Fugit Part One

There was little space inside the book laden backpack and, staring at the contents of his locker inside the boy's locker room, Joe wondered exactly how he was going to get everything into the bag. Around him the other members of the basketball team were gearing up for practice, their glances and whispers not going unnoticed by the blond teen.

A hand clapped him on his shoulder and he turned his head to meet Coach MacDonnell's sympathetic gaze. "You sure 'bout this, Hardy?" The man asked, hope evident in his tone.

Joe nodded slowly. "Yea, Coach. It's not fair to you or the other guys; keeping me on the roster when I haven't played a game or been to practice in almost a month. I'm just no good to you right now."

The older man nodded. "Take care of your brother, Joe. Your spot on the team will still be here for you when Frank wakes up."

"Thanks Coach."

With a squeeze to his shoulder, MacDonnell started toward the door that led to the gymnasium. "Two minutes boys! Last one out will be doing wind sprints!"

Several of the players groaned and hustled to get into their uniforms. Joe went back to emptying the locker.

"So you're actually ditching the team," a voice sneered behind him, accentuating the statement with a slam of a locker door.

Joe took a deep breath, and clenched his teeth. "You always wanted my captaincy, Conrad. Me quitting the team should be making your day."

Brian stepped over the narrow bench between the rows of lockers and snapped the door of Joe's locker shut, nearly catching Joe's fingers as he retracted his hand. "Oh I'm not complaining, Hardy, just a little surprised that the big bad star is pulling out just before the playoffs."

Rolling his eyes in exasperation, Joe pushed the other boy's hand off his locker. "Whatever, Brian. Just let me clean out my stuff and the team's all yours."

The bully's eyes darkened, when it became apparent he wasn't going to get under Joe's skin, and smirked as he tried a different tactic. He leaned in and stage-whispered in Joe's direction, his voice loud enough to still be heard by the other boys in the area. "So is it true? What they're saying about your brother?"

Joe's hands clenched into fists as he turned to face the boy, his blue eyes glaring a warning at Brian.

Ignoring the look, Brian continued. "I mean, he was kidnapped by the Japanese mafia, right? Don't they use ex-members of China's Red Guard? And those guys are infamous for their interrogation and torture techniques. Beating, stabbing, burning... raping."

"Shut it, Conrad," one of the other players advised the boy.

Brian looked over his shoulder at the guys that had hung around. "What? It's a valid question." He turned back to Joe, a smug smirk tugging on his lips as he saw the set of Joe's jaw. "What do you think, Joe? Maybe that's why Frank hasn't woke up yet; he's embarrassed because he enjoyed it when they were sticking it to him."

The words were no sooner out of his mouth when Joe was grabbing him by the front of his jersey. He lifted Brian from his feet, twisting the surprised boy in mid air and slamming him down onto the bench. The wood creaked as he pressed his weight down, successfully pinning Brian on his back.

Joe leaned in, his eyes flashing dangerously at the stunned boy. "One more word about my brother," he hissed murderously, "and I will break you."

There was no masking the fear reflecting in the boy's eyes as he was unable to turn away from the fiery glare boring down at him. No one moved around them, no one wanting to push the situation over the razor's edge.

Luckily, MacDonnell's booming voice interrupted. "What the hell is going on in here?"

With one last snarl, Joe released his hold on his team-mate and took a step back. "Just a misunderstanding, Coach." He reached down for his backpack, deciding to come back to empty his locker another time.

"Conrad?" MacDonnell questioned as Brian swung his feet over the bench and stood.

"So his brother's vegetable now; he should stop being such a pussy and get over it!"

Joe's fist went flying.

With a resounding crack, Brian's head snapped back and he staggered into the remaining players. No one made any attempt to catch him as he slumped to the floor, blood from his nose staining his jersey.

"You hit me!" Brian turned his head to the coach expectantly. "Well? Expel him!"

MacDonnell took a step forward, picked up Joe's backpack from the floor and handed it to Joe. "Conrad, get your ass off the floor and clean yourself up. Then, you can clean out your locker. You won't be needed the rest of the season and I expect to see you in the principal's office when I'm done with practice."

"What!? He practically broke my nose!"

"You were begging for it," one of the other players said as he walked around the prone boy with a disgusted shake of the head. The rest followed.

"Take care of Frank," another player smiled at Joe as the guys filed out toward the gym.

Glaring one last time at the boy still on the ground, the youngest Hardy shouldered his pack and started out of the locker room.

"I owe you, Hardy!" Brian yelled at him.

Joe smiled as he heard Coach MacDonnell's response.

"Conrad, shut the hell up."

~~HBHBHB~~

It was all wrong.

This was not the way it was supposed to be.

Joe was not supposed to be riding the elevator to the sixth floor for the twenty-third time. He was not supposed to be walking down the too quiet corridor toward the too quiet room where his brother still lay. Unmoving, unchanging, unaware that time was moving on without him.

He was not supposed to living without Frank beside him.

Brian was wrong about his brother being a vegetable.

Dr Porter was pleased with the progress Frank had made in the weeks following his transfer back to Bayport. The ventilator had been removed two weeks ago and even the hole from the tracheotomy had healed; leaving behind a puckered scar. The bruising to Frank's face was almost all but gone and even the machines were showing signs of brain activity.

Despite the vast improvements to Frank's condition, he still was not showing any signs of waking up.

"_Given what he went through physically, psychologically, emotionally, I'm inclined to think he's retreated into himself; to the one place he knows he's safe." _

Hearing Dr Porter say those words was what solidified Joe's decision to leave the team. He had but one priority now, and that was doing what he could to make his big brother feel safe again. Even if that meant spending every waking moment at his bedside.

His mother hadn't been too keen on the idea, wanting him to keep some semblance of normalcy, but understood the desire to be with Frank. It was one that kept her at the hospital day in and day out for a month now.

Joe's stomach churned at that realization. Had it really been that long?

For all their injuries and close calls, neither had spent more than a few days recuperating under Dr Porter's care. This was entirely different. The physician had spoken to his parents on separate occasions about long term facilities. The nearest hospice was St George's in Port Jefferson, a forty-five minute drive that would make it difficult for Joe to make the trip other than on weekends.

The boy shook his head at the thought, slowing to a stop as he reached the door to his brother's room. It would be something he would deal with when – and if – the decision to move Frank was ever more than a casual suggestion.

It was the soft music playing from inside the room that drew Joe's attention fully into the moment of his surroundings. The door was partially open, allowing the soothing melody to filter quietly into the corridor. It wasn't the only sound.

The lilting voice was familiar and he peered through the open door.

Callie sat in a chair beside the bed, one hand resting over Frank's while the other held the thick black hard-covered book in front of her. _"'…don't think I'd want to eat something Blondie's spit in.'"_ she was reading out loud, oblivious to Joe as he silently entered the room. _"'I'd bet my system wouldn't take too kindly to venom.' 'Roaslie would never embarrass Esme by displaying such a lack of hospitality.' 'Of __**course**__ not,' Blondie said in a sugar-sweet voice that I immediately distrusted. She got up and breezed out of the room. Edward sighed. 'You'd tell me if she poisoned it, right?' I asked. 'Yes,' Edward promised. And for some reason I believed him."_

"**Twilight**?" Joe asked cheekily, a wry grin playing on his lips when she jumped and snapped the book shut. "You're reading Frank **Twilight**?"

Callie rolled her eyes, turned off the CD player on the floor beside her chair, and set the book on the edge of the bed. She let her hand slide from Frank's and back into her lap. "**Breaking Dawn**, actually. And how would you know about **Twilight**?"

"Werewolves and Vampires? What's not to like?" Joe shrugged, letting his back pack drop from his shoulder and into the remaining vacant chair. "I caught the movie with Vanessa. It wasn't that bad, even if the vampires glittered." He walked over to the bed, brushing his hand down Franks arm and giving the hand a little squeeze. "Hey Frank."

Callie smiled, watching him as he greeted his brother. "So you liked the movie so much you read the other three books? You'd had to, to know about the werewolves that don't show up until the middle of the second book."

"I borrowed Vanessa's," he admitted with an embarrassed smile. "Damn books are addictive."

The girl laughed lightly and nodded. "Tell me about it. I've read them three times on my own already."

Joe looked to his brother's gaunt face and had to turn away. The older boy had lost a lot of weight and Dr Porter had to assure them that it was normal. The feeding tube they had inserted directly into Frank's stomach ensured he got the nutrients he needed, but it was taking its toll on his body.

Instead, Joe chose to focus on the girl beside the bed. "If you're on the fourth book, how long have you been coming here and reading to him?"

"A couple weeks now," Callie said quietly. "I've always tried to be gone before you get here from school, but I must have lost track of the time today."

"Is that why Phil was awarded this year's valedictorian? You no longer met the attendance requirement because you've been skipping out?"

"Some things are more important." She flicked her eyes to the unmoving figure and looked away just as quickly.

Despite how fast the look had been he hadn't missed the longing and guilt shining from her light brown eyes. Joe took a step away from the bed, pulling his backpack onto the floor, and sat in the chair beside his brother's ex-girlfriend. "You still love him. This is why you broke it off with Jerry."

"I wasn't being fair, or honest, to Jerry." She responded with a tearful smile, her eyes looking up at the ceiling as she half laughed half sobbed and wiped at the moisture pooling on her cheeks. "Pathetic, huh? My ex is in a coma and I want to get back together with him."

"Not pathetic," he said and put a comforting hand on her knee. "Maybe, if he knows that the people who love him are here for him, he'll feel safe enough to come back to us."

With a sniff, Callie nodded. "Your mom and Dr Porter thought the same thing. Got the nurses to make an exception on the length of time I could visit, considering I'm not family."

A wry grin crossed Joe's lips. "You might as well be, given the way you get on my nerves like a big sister."

"Gee," she said dryly, though the smile on her face was warm, "thanks."

"You're welcome." Joe leaned back in the chair, watching the rise and fall of Frank's chest. Bit by bit, the smile faded from his lips. "He's not going to wake up, is he?"

Callie stared at him, surprised by the despair she heard in his voice. She opened her mouth to answer only no sound escaped her lips and with a sad sigh she pursed her lips together.

Clearing her throat, she leaned over and started the CD player again. Classical music filled the silence and the girl opened the book again, continuing to read from where she had been interrupted.

Joe could only sit there, staring at his unresponsive brother and yet not seeing. His vision blurred as his eyes relaxed and unfocussed. He wasn't sure how long he sat there; he only knew that it was a chance shifting of his head that caught the movement.

He blinked and brought his focus back to his surroundings. His body went rigid as he sat up suddenly in the chair. Noticing the sudden change in his posture Callie ceased reading and he could feel her eyes boring into him.

"Turn it off," he motioned to the player. "Turn it off!"

She flicked the pause button without taking her eyes off him. "What-" Callie interrupted herself when she heard it. Her head snapped around toward the monitors. "Did his heart rate just go up?" she asked breathlessly.

Neither moved; neither breathed.

Then they saw it.

The fingers on Frank's hand were moving.

And then his head shifted to the side.

"Frank…" Joe was out of his chair, his hand slapping against the nurses call button on the side of the bed before carefully slipping his hand beneath his brother's.

His heart leapt against his chest when he felt the fingers tighten around his hand.

"Frank?" his voice caught in his throat, cracking with nearly overwhelming hope and emotions. "Frank, open your eyes for me?" He was begging and he didn't care. "I'm right here Frank… please…"

There was no immediate reaction, and Joe started to fear that it had all been in his head.

And then he was looking into a pair of eyes he never thought he'd see again.

* * *

A/N 2: Breaking Dawn excerpt written and copyrighted by Stephanie Meyer.


	18. Tempus Fugit: Part Two

Chapter Eighteen: Tempus Fugit Part Two

Laura Hardy was nervous.

Actually, more than nervous.

She felt scared.

She should leave. Yes, that's it. Temporary insanity, no one would blame her.

And still she remained sitting, watching the elevator; willing it to hurry so she could get this over with.

And then it dinged quietly, the doors opened, and he stepped onto the floor.

He looked tired. Dark circles beneath blood shot eyes were accentuated by the beard of several days' growth. He held a take-out coffee cup in one hand and nearly dropped it when he saw her rising from her chair.

"Hi." Her voice squeaked. A grown woman, talking to her husband, and her voice cracked like a teenager on her first date.

Fenton offered her a cautious smile, politely not mentioning the blush that was colouring her cheeks. "Hi."

Laura cleared her throat and tried again. "Thank you for coming early, I hope I didn't take you away from anything."

He shook his head. "No, nothing. I've closed the office for the time being."

That shocked her. "What about Sam's clients? Or the ones that had you on retainer?"

"Refunded and referred to other agencies," he answered with a shrug. "Sam's on paid leave until Ethel gives him the green light to come back."

"Can you afford that?"

"It's why we pay the insurance premiums we do. And it seems as though the government will be covering the medical bills. The insurance company was a little more willing to cover the loss of wages for both Sam and I." A knowing smirk touched at his lips as he watched her.

Her arms crossed over her chest and a smirk of her own tugged at her mouth. "Who knew the State Department could be so generous?"

He almost laughed at that, but the ease of their conversation ended abruptly as he spoke again. "You didn't ask me here to inquire about the business."

"No," she admitted. She hesitated, unsure of how to begin.

Fenton mistook her hesitancy and his eyes widened in a panic. "Is it Frank? Has something happened-"

"Oh no!" Laura exclaimed quickly, mortified at herself for letting him think like that if only for a second. "No, Frank's the same. I wanted..." she sighed.

Why was she so anxious? He was her husband, despite the distance that had grown between them. Something she was determined to rectify immediately.

"Can we talk? Privately?" Her voice was stronger and when he nodded the couple walked in silence toward the family lounge.

"Are you okay leaving Frank?" Fenton settled into on of the plush chairs while Laura sat in the one beside him.

She turned her body toward him so they were facing each other. "Callie's sitting with him, and Joe should be here in a little while."

The man nodded, watching her closely. He was reading her, she knew, trying to figure out why she was suddenly willingly spending time with him. He set his cup on the small table near the chairs. "So what's this about, Laura?"

She allowed a small smile to grace her lips. Taking a deep breath, she spoke. "I want you to move back home."

His eyes widened again, this time in shock. He opened his mouth but Laura stopped him before he could say anything – surprising herself in the process – by suddenly leaning in to him and kissing him.

The electrifying touch of his lips against his stunned both of them momentarily. She almost drew away from him when she felt him returning the endearment. His hand reached behind her head, his fingers weaving into the locks of her hair. Their embrace deepened as her arms reaching around his neck and pulling him closer to her.

She had missed this – God how she had missed his touch! Her nervousness fled her in that instant and she realized that it was her own mistakes that had kept her from approaching him sooner.

It was Laura who had pushed him away; had driven the wedge into the crack in their relationship. They had faced hard times before and always with the other's support. The sleepless nights, the terrifying doubts, there were her doing. The one person she counted on to keep her from falling into despair she had banished in her anger.

Sam had been right.

She was so very stupid.

The woman would have been content to remain there, making out with her husband of all things, but she could feel his reluctance as he cut off their kiss. He tilted his head down and their foreheads touched as he sighed.

"Laura…"

She heard the reservation in his voice and lifted her eyes to meet his.

"You and our sons share something that I will never fully understand," She said softly. "But I know you, Fenton, and I know you would never knowingly put either of our boys in any danger. You took precautions, ensured that everything was safe before you even approached Frank for his help."

"Laura-"

"No," she interrupted him with a teasing smile. "I've been practicing this for days, so please let me finish."

He chuckled but otherwise remained silent, waiting for her to continue.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, she caressed his face. "I had no right to blame you, to let you carry the burden of guilt you had no business carrying. From what Joe has told me, and Agent Phillips has confirmed it, it could have just as easily been him that the Yakuza took that first night. It was circumstances that led them to Frank and a tragic happenstance that they recognized him. There is no blame to lie here, except at the feet of the men that did this. And you, my love, are not one of them. Can you forgive me for being such a damned fool?"

Weary eyes closed and he placed his hand over hers that rest against his cheek. "I am at fault, Laura." He swallowed hard before taking her hand away from his face and opening his eyes. "They are my sons, not much more than boys, and I had no right involving Frank in such a potentially dangerous investigation."

"What you do," she tilted her head to the side to catch his gaze again, "all of you, is a gift. You and Sam are, perhaps, some of the best investigators in the country. Your reputation is a testament of that. You trust each other, strengthen one another, and work together in a way I have yet to see duplicated. But your sons, Fenton, are going to put you to shame."

He blinked at her like she had two heads and she laughed.

"The night they came for Frank and shot Sam," she told him, fighting against the remembered terror of that night, "I had to let Joe go. I was clinging on to him so tightly, so afraid of what might happen, that I failed to realize that he was the only one who could save his brother.

"Yes," she interrupted her husband when he started to say something, "you were following leads and I have no doubt that you would have found him. Eventually, and it would have been too late. But look at what your sons, little more than men, have accomplished already. Joe explained to me why they work so well together, and it is something you will never be able to copy. Never in a million years."

The light of understanding filled his dark eyes. "Their bond; how close they are… we've often marvelled at their ability to know what the other things and feels."

"That is why I let Joe leave that night," she nodded. "And that is why I believe with all my heart that Frank will come back to us. He won't leave Joe for long. But when Frank wakes he's going to need his family, all of us, together and whole. "

She took her hands and placed them on either side of his face, locking their eyes together. "Please. Come home."

He kissed her then, a kiss filled with such tenderness and love that it banished the tension that had hung between them for the past weeks. She returned the gesture and knew that despite the long, hard road to come that they would remain as they always had. They would face whatever would come their way as a couple. Strong and as one.

[DR PORTER PLEASE REPORT TO ROOM 621. DR PORTER PLEASE REPORT TO ROOM 621.]

The page over the hospital intercom shattered the serene moment between husband and wife with a horrifying abruptness. They were both on their feet in an instant, racing down the hall and toward room 621.

Frank's room.

* * *

**A/N: **Well, we're coming to the end of things, only a few chapters left to go. I know most of you were expecting to have Frank rejoin the story after the end of last chapter, but THE MUSE is evil that way. *grin*

Thank you to everyone who has been patient with the sporatic updates, and an especially big thank you to those who've been taking the time to leave reviews. They really do encourage me to keep writing. Next chapter soon, promise.

-Liz


	19. Tempus Fugit: Part Three

**A/N:** Three chapters in as many days... who'd a thunk THE MUSE would be so inspired. Thank you, thank you, thank you to everyone who's reviewed! I'm almost sorry to see this story coming to an end. But it's getting there. Ony a couple more to go after this one. *sigh* Ah well. That's the way writing goes I suppose.

Anywho, many of you have been waiting since chapter 11 for this, so on with the chapter!

-Liz

* * *

Chapter Nineteen: Tempus Fugit Part Three

_The world was wrong, and yet he didn't want it to change. _

_The sky was dark, blacker than he had ever seen as no stars shone and the moon was hidden. The ocean spread out in front of him, an oppressive black that kept him well away from the swelling waves that crested the white sand._

_He was content where he was, sitting on the grass where it met the sand, watching the dark water creep ever higher. Behind him, thick trees formed a barrier between two sheer cliffs on either side of the small beach. They rose high into the black sky and, even lying on his back, he could not see the top. _

_He was, for all intents and purposes, imprisoned in the small cove. And while the thought of being trapped normally would have been an unpleasant one, he found it reassuring. If he couldn't get out, no one else could get in. _

_Except her. _

_Familiar dark brown hair and deep brown eyes, she came from the trees. At first he thought she was trapped, like he was, until she explained that she was there to keep him company, to wait with him until he came to a decision. _

"_What decision is that?" he had asked her the first time he saw her. _

_She tipped her head toward the water, more than a mile from them then, and he knew his choices. Stay there, waiting for the rising tide, retreat back into the thick woods or brave the water. _

_Never one to back down from a challenge, he had gotten to his feet. With a quick thanks and good-bye he was jogging toward the water's edge. His bare feet sunk into the warm sand with every step and his pace slowed as though the grains were trying to keep him there. _

_It was a struggle, but in what seemed like no time he was standing only inches from the surging water. And, as always, she had been right beside him. She didn't say a word, just waited. _

_He stepped forward, the now wet sand burning the bottoms of his feet. Still, he knew he had to press on. _

_But when the water lapped over his feet, he froze. _

_**Fingers painfully dug into his biceps, pulling his arms back and holding them in place as the pain through his abdomen threatened to drive him to his knees. A fierce jab to his lower back succeeded-**_

_He fell onto his hands and knees in the sand, gasping for the breath that had been driven from his lungs. ._

_She was beside him instantly, drawing him back from a second wave and back onto the dryer sand. Her face was filled with sorrow and she shook her head. "You're not strong enough. Not yet." She looked around her as though gauging something he could not yet understand. "There's still time..."_

_It went on like that for days – or what seemed like days. _

_He didn't sleep, didn't eat. Only sat watching the black waves draw slowly and steadily closer. He would attempt the water frequently but the results were always the same. The moistened sands would burn him and the water brought about the nightmares._

_**The cotton belt from his robe constricted his breathing as it was wrapped several times around his throat. Unforgiving hands would pull the ends, tightening the fabric until he could no longer breathe. When the darkness began to overwhelm him, it would mercifully release and he would gasp for air only to have it once more halted by a vicious tug…**_

_And she was there. He didn't always see her – sometimes she would disappear back into the trees – and yet she was still with him. Whenever he thought of her, she was there instantly as though she had never left. _

"_Why you?" He asked quietly one 'day' as they sat watching the water which was now only a few hundred yards away._

"_Does it bother you?" She responded equally hushed_

_He shook his head. "He misses you, you know."_

_She had smiled at that. "I'm always with him, he knows that."_

_Turning his head toward her he regarded her curiously. "Even now?"_

"_Yes, even now." Her ivory skinned hand lifted from her lap and rest against the skin of her chest directly above her heart. "I feel the hurt to his heart as much as if it were hurting my own. His soul is crying out and I am powerless. Listen…"_

_He did as he had been instructed but heard nothing and told her as much._

_She had sighed sadly, glanced once more around her and frowned. "You must hear it soon. Time grows short…"_

_He did not understand, and that was okay. _

_**Rough concrete bit into the flesh of his face, the heavy hand on the back of his head unrelenting as it pressed down. Calloused fingers tore at the insubstantial garment he wore, the fabric ripping as he struggled against the hands keeping him on his chest and stomach; keeping him immobile... **_

_He stopped going into the water. _

_More time passed and he had begun to notice a desperate urgency in her eyes. She seemed concerned that the black water was now less then a hundred yards from the grass-line; worried that the rock faces of the cliff had started to draw every closer; and heartbroken that the once dark trees were now bright and growing brighter. _

_He shared none of her concerns._

_He was content where he was. _

_He was safe where he was. _

"_Please!" She was to begging him now, trying to convince him to try to swim from the beach. _

_He wasn't fool enough to risk the nightmares... _

_Not when the light filtering through the woods was nearly blinding and yet did not sting his eyes to look upon it. To the contrary, it felt warm and inviting and several times he found himself on his feet with the intent to explore what lay beyond the canopy. _

_Except she stopped him every time. "No!"_

_The frantic tone of her voice would halt his steps. The panic in her eyes was an enigma to him. Why would she fear what lay within the light? _

_The water was only a few feet from him now, and he felt a frightening finality to his serenity as it drew every closer. He watched it, rolling forward and back, each swell bringing it that much closer to the grass-line. _

_Why was that a bad thing?_

"_It will poison you," she whispered from her place beside him as though she had read his mind. "Should it reach the green before the choice is made you will be trapped within its depths. There will be no escape. The regrets and nightmares of your living days will be your eternity."_

_Living days…?_

_He finally understood. _

_Frank Hardy was dying. _

"_Why can't I stay?"_

_She took hold of his shoulders gently, turning him away from the mesmerizing flow of the water to face her. "You still cling to life, to this place. Think. Why this place? What is so special that you would come here to make this choice?"_

_He looked around him, finally taking in his surroundings completely. _

_He saw the infinite rise of the cliff-face and at the same time he saw the reality hidden beneath the black. _

"_It's our place," he breathed in awe. He took a few steps away from her, mindful of keeping his feet out of the water. "We found it a couple years ago; that first summer we got the Sleuth. The cliffs surrounded the beach, making it inaccessible any other way beside boat. Even then it was treacherous to get to. The rocks of Napeague Harbour make it deadly for anything other than small craft to even attempt navigating the waters."_

_The water was steadily rising…_

_She shook him, bringing his attention back to her frantic face. "Why? Why here? Say it!"_

"He's not going to wake up, is he?"

_His head snapped to the side, staring out over the great expanse of ebony waves. _

_He knew that voice… except it was different. It tugged at his heart, the absolute certainty of defeat that had never been heard before from that voice. _

_Something inside of him stirred._

"… _Joe?"_

_Tears shimmered in her eyes. "Yes…"_

_He looked to the woods, the longing to walk through the trees nearly overpowering. But one thought kept his feet rooted to the spot. _

"_Joe needs me…"_

_She smiled in relief. "Yes. Go Frank, your time is nearly up."_

_He glanced down at the water that was now only inches from the green of the grass. Already, the emerald blades were beginning to brown and blacken. _

_He enveloped her in his arms, holding her tight against his chest. He pressed his lips against the top of her head. "I miss you too. Thank you Iola."_

_Fixating his eyes on the invisible horizon, he was suddenly moving. _

_He staggered with his first step, the nightmares – the memories assaulting him and nearly drove him back. _

_He pressed forward and took his second step. _

_And then he was sinking. _

_The sand beneath the water was suddenly gone and he found himself plunging into the icy blackness. _

"_**Why?" Joe demanded. "Did you think I wouldn't understand?"**_

"_**Honestly? Yes."**_

"_**Oh that's just great, Frank. We're supposed to be partners. We're supposed to trust each other with out lives-"**_

"_**There's no one I trust more!" Frank protested.**_

"_**And yet I had to learn about this from Tony!" Joe shouted, angrier than he had been in a very long time. "I should have heard it from you!"**_

_The darkness pressed in around him, crushing and crippling, bringing with it the physical pain he had forgotten. _

"_**He's got a gun!"**_

_**Gunman moved quickly, his iron-like fist slamming hard into Frank's jaw. Stars exploded across his vision and the report of a gun firing echoed in his ears. Almost immediately there came a squealing of brakes and the horrifying impact of a vehicle against human flesh. More screams of stopping cars overlapped as Driver leapt back into the van and floored the accelerator. **_

_**His head was spinning violently and he heard the venomous hiss of Gunman in his ear. "You're going to regret that."**_

"Frank…"

_He couldn't move; couldn't breath; couldn't scream…_

_**Rough concrete bit into the flesh of his face, the heavy hand on the back of his head unrelenting as it pressed down. Calloused fingers tore at the insubstantial garment he wore, the fabric ripping as he struggled against the hands keeping him on his chest and stomach; kept him immobile. He wanted to cry out, to scream out against the violent assault but his voice could only plead:**_

"_**Just kill me… please God… let me die…"**_

_He felt something brush against his palm and instinctively he clutched his fingers around it. _

"Frank?"

_He knew that voice._

"Frank, open your eyes for me?"

_The darkness began to fade. Its' paralyzing grip releasing his limps and he left himself floating._

"I'm right here Frank… please…"

It was harder than he would have thought, doing something as simple as lifting the lids that made the world dark. He wanted to tell the voice to be patient, to give him a moment, but nothing seemed to be responding to his unconscious commands.

And then, painfully slow, his eyelids began to rise.

The dim light was nearly blinding and it brought tears to the edges of his eyes. Still, he would not close them. Above him hovered a blurred face but he didn't need to see clearly to know who it was.

The touch said it all.

Joe…


	20. A Brother's Confession

**A/N: **Sorry, once again, for the delay in posting. I guess writing three emotionally charged chapters in three days sorta fried THE MUSE. It took a while for the story to get back into the swing of things. Never the less, here it is! Another chapter of Hardy angsty goodness!

I regret not being able to respond individually to reviews as per normal. Chromde, FranknJoe, Frankette, Tifal 55, Angry Penguin, Josie Hardy, ArgentSkye, UKFan101, thank you so very much for taking the time to leave a review. Thank you to everyone who has this story on notice for sticking with me despite the delays.

Thanks for reading!

-Liz

* * *

Chapter Twenty: A Brother's Confession

Joe let his backpack slide off his shoulder and into the empty chair near the door as he entered the room. It had been four days since Frank came out of the coma; two since he'd been moved out of the ICU and into a private room in the trauma ward; and one since he'd managed to stay awake for more than a few minutes at a time.

In this room, away from the machines that had been connected to his brother, Joe could almost pretend that the last four weeks hadn't happened. But one look at Frank brought the reality of it to bear.

The deep yellow bruising on his jaw would eventually fade and the pins and wiring would be removed in a few more weeks. There would be several dental surgeries to repair the broken and missing teeth, but that would come once the jaw was strong enough. Until then, the older boy was unable to move his jaw to eat or speak. The feeding tube was still noticeable beneath the blankets covering his lower half.

The bruises around his eyes and across his cheeks were all but gone now. A thick padding over his left eye remained, a new addition after it was discovered that a small fragment of bone had migrated from the bones surrounding the eye socket and had been imbedded into the eye itself. It had been removed without complication the day before, but there had been some damage to the optic nerve and the extent wouldn't be known for several days yet. The ophthalmologist was confident that Frank would recover most, if not all, of his vision in that eye.

Laura was standing next to her oldest boy's bed, where it was inclined to he was in a relaxed sitting position, reading as Frank wrote on a small whiteboard with a shaky hand. He was tired, that much was obvious, but from the expression on his face sleep was the last thing on his mind.

"Are you sure?" their mother asked quietly, brushing the hair from Frank's face.

He nodded gingerly and she smiled softly. "Okay. But only for a few minutes; you need your rest.

With a kiss to his forehead, Laura turned from the bed and smiled at her youngest son. "If he gets too tired-"

"-I'll tuck him in." Joe smirked teasingly at his brother.

A moment later, it was just the two brothers.

"Hey," Joe said quietly as he took the chair next to the bed. He glanced at the whiteboard and saw what Frank had written; asking his mother for time alone to speak with Joe. "So what's up?"

**I wanted to tell you,** was the written answer.

"Tell me what?"

**What I remember.**

Joe nodded slowly, leaning forward until his arms were resting on his knees. "What do you remember?"

**Everything.**

The blonde felt the knot in his stomach and a chill seemed to fill the room.

It wasn't fair! Frank shouldn't remember what happened; what those bastards did to him. He'd been through too much all ready and they had all hoped that, given the extent of his injuries, he would have forgotten.

Joe swallowed hard, lowering his head to stare at his sneakers. "I already know."

He could hear the squeak of the marker in his brother's hand as he wrote once more on the board. When the sound stopped Joe still couldn't bring himself to look up. Only when Frank began tapping the board impatiently did he raise his head.

**Dad told me about video. Sorry you had to see.**

Joe gaped at his brother. "You're sorry? Yea, I saw it, but you lived it and-" The words choked him and he could only shake his head.

**Can't say I'm okay but will be. Lots of therapy.**

He read those words and had to chuckle morbidly at the teasing expression on Frank's face.

This was typical of his brother. Frank would be strong for everyone around him, doing what he needed to make everyone else feel better. Even if it meant joking about something that was not meant to be joked about.

**Not what I want to talk to you about.**

Joe narrowed his blue eyes in confusion. "Then what?"

**Remember when taken. Woke up in van and got pulled over. They killed the cop.**

Joe nodded. "Dad practically had the entire state looking for you within an hour of when you were kidnapped. Still wasn't soon enough…"

Frank was writing again, pausing every few seconds to gather his thoughts. It was almost a full minute before he held the whiteboard out for Joe to take.

The writing was smaller, still filling most of the board, and the sentences not as disjointed.

**I remember ****knowing**** I was going to die and the only thing I could think of was how I hadn't trusted you. You were supposed to be the one I trusted completely but I wouldn't tell you about Oxford. I couldn't because I felt guilty. I chose to go. After everything we've been through, I chose to betray you. I was going to leave and it was eating me up inside. And I was going to die knowing that you believed I didn't trust you. **

**You need to know, I trust you more now than ever.**

Frank held out his hand and Joe placed the board on his palm.

Joe's vision was blurred and his eyes burned with unshed tears. He cleared his throat, blinking back the tears before the spilled. When he spoke, his voice was barely a whisper. "Why?"

The board was offered to him again.

**I'm alive because of you. **

**I heard you. When I was fighting I heard you tell me not to give up. You told me you were coming for me and I had to keep fighting.**

**Dad told me what happened. He told me he had all but given up. He told me ****YOU**** wouldn't. You went to Grey and demanded his help. You came to New York after me.**

**The cops may have found me, but you saved my life. **

With a clatter against the linoleum, the board slipped from Joe's hand and fell to the floor. He pressed the heals of his palms into his eyes but that couldn't stop the tears that trickled along side his nose. "I was so stupid," he whispered behind a sob.

Running his hands ups his face and over his hair he met his brother's gaze. "I was jealous that Tony knew something about you that I didn't. I got so mad and I wouldn't let you explain and you almost died and I wouldn't have been able to tell you how sorry I was."

His head drooped again to his chest. Almost immediately he felt fingers brushing against the top of his head and looked up. Frank was reaching to comfort him but couldn't move closer without hurting himself. Joe met him midway, gently gripping the other boy's hand with his. If he thought the touch was enough, he was wrong.

Frank weakly tugged at his arm and it took Joe a moment realize his brother was trying to get him to come closer.

Sniffing back the tears, he got out of his chair and stood next to the bed. It was only when Frank touched his chest, palm pressing over Joe's heart, that he realized he hadn't returned the board to his brother. It didn't matter though. Frank moved his hand from Joe's chest and brought it to his own and Joe understood.

They were both sorry, had both made mistakes, but it didn't change anything.

They were still brothers and nothing could ever change that.

With another weary tug, Frank pulled Joe onto the bed beside him. Mindful of the IV line and feeding tube, the younger boy settled into the crook of his brother's arm and rest his head on Frank's chest. As kids, it was how they slept when one of them was sick or hurt. It was their way of reassuring the other that they were going to be okay.

Joe closed his eyes, listening to the steady heat beat from within, and a few more tears escaped from behind the lids.

"I thought it was a girl," he whispered after a moment.

He felt Frank's body shake a few times in silent laughter and the whiteboard marker whap him on the top of his head. The arm around his shoulders squeezed just a little tightly and he smiled.

He had his brother back!


	21. Atonement

**A/N:** This chapter would have been completed sooner if one reviewer (who shall remain nameless, you know who you are) who sent a PM with their speculations which made me realize I had several loose ends still to deal with before I ended this story, and thereby... BROKE THE MUSE! I sat for days trying to hash this chapter out, but NADA! Zero! ZILCH! *sigh* Thankfully, said reviewer was willing to take THE MUSE's spot and was able to help me get it flowing and so "Thank you" to said reviewer. (And now I'll say no more on the matter, so please don't send in the clowns!)

Thank you again to everyone who's taken the time to leave me a review. I love reading them.

-Liz

* * *

Chapter Twenty-One: Atonement

The ache in his lower back was becoming more persistent and Fenton was finding it hard to remain in the hard plastic chair across the corridor from his son's room. He was tense, anxious to get back inside the room and be there for Frank. But Dr Porter felt it would speed up Frank's recovery if he started speaking with a therapist while he was still in the hospital, even if it were only for a few minutes a day.

And so, for the second day in a row, the father was banished into the hall while Dr Gregory Jackson, the hospital psychiatrist, had a conversation with Fenton's son.

He hated it.

The day before, the Psychiatrist had only been in the room a few minutes before Fenton and Laura were being called back in. To their dismay, they found their oldest having a panic attack. It had taken Laura nearly twenty minutes to get the boy calmed down and even then Dr Porter had to give Frank a mild sedative.

Dr Jackson had explained to Fenton that Frank had been restless when his parents had left to room, having been left alone with the unknown man. Despite his protests that he was fine, the young man had started having trouble breathing and fell into a panic.

Today, Laura was allowed to stay inside the room and Fenton was delegated to waiting.

He hated waiting.

"Fenton?"

Turning toward the voice, the detective watched as Agent Phillips approached. With a faint smile, Fenton rose from his chair, much to the relief of his back. "What brings you here, Doug?"

There was frown on the Government man's lips. "I heard through the grapevine that Frank was awake."

Fenton nodded, not at all apologetic for not informing the man himself. "More than a week ago, but he's still not up for too many visitors. And he is certainly not in any condition to be interrogated by you."

"I think I should be insulted you think that's the only reason I'm here."

Arms folding over his chest, Fenton glowered at the agent. "And yet you aren't because that's exactly why you're here."

Smirking sardonically, Doug nodded. "The last time I saw her, your charming wife made it perfectly clear what she thought of me and what would happen if I came near her children again."

"You're not talking to him," Fenton stated plainly.

The agent sighed. "Any chance of getting to Etsuko Oonishi is inside that room; with whatever Frank can tell us. If he can put Oonishi at the scene of his assault, and is willing to testify to that fact, we can nail the bastard to the wall! Fenton, you know that."

The father saw red at the mention of the man responsible for what was done to his son. "I know," he growled, "that it's not my decision or yours!"

"He had you other son attacked in Brooklyn-"

"And that sociopath had my oldest son raped and beaten into a coma! I get it, Doug. He's a dangerous and unstable individual. And, while I'd love nothing more than to get my hands on him and beat him to a bloody pulp, I will not put my family in that man's sights again. I wash my hands of Etsuko Oonishi and the entire Yamaguchi-gumi Clan. They've made it perfectly clear that if we leave them alone they will do the same to us."

"And you believe them?"

"I have to." he sighed, rubbing at the sudden throbbing headache that developed behind his temples. "The physical reminders of his ordeal are starting to fade. This afternoon, Frank is having the wires from his jaw removed. He'll have the first of the surgeries to repair the damage to the inside of his mouth in the morning, and then we'll be taking him home. He has to move on; we have to move on, the family not just Frank. We can't do that if we're going after Oonishi."

Agent Phillips regarded him doubtfully. "So you're telling me you, the great Fenton Hardy, are willing to let someone like Etsuko Oonishi walk away scott free after what he did to your son?"

Fenton almost laughed at the federal agent's attempt to appeal to his professional pride. He locked his gaze with the other man's. "Absolutely."

"You have your answer."

Both men turned at the sudden voice and Fenton smiled at his wife standing framed in the doorway.

Laura stepped out into the hall and beside her husband, looping her arm through the bend of his elbow. Her withering expression silenced any protests from the federal man. "If there is nothing else, Agent Phillips, the Doctor would like to speak with my husband."

Feeling the gentle tug on his arm, he turned his back on the agent and allowed himself to be led toward to the open door.

"I will get a court order," Phillips threatened. "If I have to."

The parents froze and both turned back toward the man. Their combined glare had him taking an involuntary step back. Fenton snarled, "You do-"

"-and you'll regret crossing this family." Laura finished for him.

Even Fenton felt an icy shiver at the tone of her voice, and he was thankfully not at the receiving end of it this time. After a moment of terse silence, Doug nodded once and turned away.

Once inside the quiet room, the door firmly shut behind them, Laura hugged him tight and lightly kissing his mouth. "Thank you," she murmured against his lips.

He returned her kiss, lightly at first then deepening. Momentarily forgetting where they were, both jumped a little at the sound of a thick marker tapping against a whiteboard.

**Get a room. Not mine.**

The detective nearly chuckled at the written statement, until he saw the expression on his son's face and the laughter died in his throat. The boy's face was hard to read, nearly emotionless, but he could see the effort it took to maintain it. So he cleared his throat, disentangled himself from his wife, and approached the chairs next to the bed.

Dr Jackson was several years his senior, bald and a little portly, and kind looking. Except for seriousness in his eyes that gave him a grim countenance. "You wanted to speak with me, Dr Jackson?"

"Actually, Frank did," the man responded from the opposite side of the hospital bed.

Frank's head was down and he was unable to meet his father's eyes. The boy drew his knees up to his chest, wrapping one arm around them while his other hand fiddled with the marker and now cleared off whiteboard that lay on the mattress next to him.

Laura walked over to the bed and sat on the edge of it, effectively putting herself between father and son. "It's okay Frank."

"You and Frank had a conversation a couple of days ago," Dr Jackson stated when Frank hesitated. "Do you remember what you two talked about?"

The heart in his chest began to pound as he nodded. "I told him about what happened after he'd been taken."

He watched his son's face and the flash of emotion that was there one second and gone the rest.

"What exactly did you tell him?"

Fenton thought back to that morning a few days past, the first day Frank had been awake for more than a few minutes. "I told him how we had been looking for him, how nearly every cop in the tri-state area was looking for him."

The frown on Frank's face was unmistakable this time as the boy finally put the felt tip of the marker to the board and began to write. A moment later he picked up the board and practically threw it at his father.

The detective was taken aback by the gesture and scrambled to catch the board.

**Not you! ****Collig got State Troopers. Chief Peterson got Jersey. Agent Phillips got feds. ****JOE**** went to Grey. **

The world dropped out from under him.

How he wished it would just open up and swallow him.

He looked to his son. "Frank, I-"

"Hurts." It took everyone a moment to realize that it had been Frank that had spoken. Despite the immobile jaw, through clenched teeth Frank was able to slowly form the words. "It hurts that you let me go."

Fenton wanted to shake his head, to deny it fervently, but he couldn't. He had let Frank go. In those terrible hours after his eldest had been taken, after his world had began to break around him, he had never doubted that he was looking for a corpse. He never believed there had been a chance that Frank had been alive. Not until Joe found him at the crime scene on the expressway.

The silence in the room was oppressive, constricting, and even when Dr Jackson spoke the tension remained.

"Mr Hardy? Had you given up?"

There was the crux of it, and it brought clarity to Frank's attitude toward him the last couple of days. Why he seemed cooler toward him since he had come out of the coma; why he didn't want Fenton staying in the hospital with him at night anymore; why he hadn't been able to look him in the eye.

The father nodded remorsefully. "I – it was too much," he whispered huskily. He tried again to meet he son's gaze but the boy turned away. "Sam had just been shot, the Marshals had been killed, and you had been taken for the second time in twenty-four hours. After what they did to you the first time… I couldn't face it, not when I was the one who got you involved with them in the first place."

Laura was stroking Frank's hair as he finally turned to look at Fenton, the pained expression in the boy's one good eye nearly shattering his father's heart. "You would have let them kill me…"

Fenton's face fell into his hands at that crushing realization. If it had not been for Joe, they would have never known where the older boy had been taken. Frank would have succumbed to his injuries, alone in the darkness, slowly dying while waiting for a rescue that was never going to come.

And all the while, Fenton had been feeling sorry for himself.

"I am so sorry," the man moaned into the palms of his hands as they fell from his face and into his lap. "I am so very sorry. If I could change it, you've got to believe that I would."

There is another moment of silence, interrupted again by Dr Jackson.

"Frank? Do you believe him?"

The answer came as a silent nod.

"Can you let it go? The anger and rejection you feel?"

_Rejection?!_ Fenton's head snapped toward his wife at that word and she responded with a look that said she would explain it another time.

When Frank remained motionless and quiet, Dr Jackson tried again.

"Frank, can you forgive your father?"

Each second that passed was like a fiery dagger into Fenton's heart. He watched his son carefully, noticing the clenching of hands into fists, the rigid posture of Frank's shoulders, the haunting fear that filled his eyes.

He held his breath, waiting for the answer.

And nearly sobbed when Frank slowly shook his head.

_No…_


	22. Luck in the Leftovers

**A/N: ** Well dang it all... I think apologising for my delay in posting is going to be the norm for my updates from now on. Three weeks... sorry everyone. I blame... well, me. I took a small break to work on a plot bunny that wasn't leaving me alone and then when I came back to this one it seems as though THE MUSE was still on break. I've finally got the last of the plot holes fixed though, I hope, and with cover the rest in the nect few chapters.

Thanks again to everyone who's taken the time to leave reviews. It means a lot that you've stuck with me this long.

-Liz

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Two: Luck in the Leftovers

*knock* *knock* *knock*

His blond head peeking through the narrow opening left by the partially open door, Joe found his father sitting at the detective's desk in the home office. Fenton's head was tilted to the side, securing the telephone receiver to his ear with his shoulder, while his hands were shuffling through a stack of papers.

"I understand that, Ms Stubbs," the older man was saying into the mouthpiece. He lifted his head, smiling softly, when he saw his son at the door and motioned for him to enter.

The boy stepped inside the office, closing the door with a click behind him, and approached his father's desk.

"I am well aware of what you hired me for, Ms Stubbs." Fenton shook his head and rolled his eyes at his son. Joe smirked as he settled himself into one of the chairs. "But there's nothing there, Ms Stubbs… Simon Carmine is not faking his injuries… Then I suggest you pay your deductible and let the insurance company pay the man… You're free to retain another Detective, Ms Stubbs, but I stand by my assessment… Good day to you as well, Ms Stubbs."

Chuckling kindly, Joe waited until his father hung up the phone. "Back to the daily grind, I see? Sounded like insurance fraud?"

"Not in the least," Fenton shook his head and slipped the papers back into the case folder. "But Ms Stubbs is an 80 year old woman, blind as a bat, that hit a pedestrian with her car. She claims he's faking; he's recovering from two broken legs and a broken hip. She doesn't want to insurance company to pay him out because if they do they'll take her license away."

"Good idea," Joe leaned forward in his chair. "Not your normal kind of case though, is it? I can't remember the last time you accepted a fraud case."

"I felt it's time I take a step back from the high profile cases." Fenton sighed and tilted his chair back in a relaxed manner. "Especially government cases."

"Speaking of the government," Joe reached into his back pocket and retrieved a brown envelope. He held it across the desk for his father. "This came with the mail today. I thought you might want to take a look at it right away."

Pursing his lips together, Fenton accepted the envelope. The official seal of the Department of State adorned the top corner. Without opening it, he tossed it into his 'IN' pile.

"My payment," he told his son when he saw Joe's curious expression. "Doug called a couple of days ago to let me know it was on its way. Along with a sizeable bonus, apparently."

Joe shook his head and snorted. "Yea, like money's going to change anything. They screw up, nearly get Frank killed, and throw money at us to make it all go away. Good policy."

With a frown, Fenton chose to ignore the comments. "Was there anything else in the mail?"

Realizing he had said the wrong thing, he cleared his throat and allowed for the subject change. "There were a few bills, a letter for Aunt Gertrude, and a large manila envelope from Oxford for Frank."

"Oxford," the detective moaned softly. "With everything that happened, I'd forgotten."

"I had," Joe admitted. "I think Mom did too."

"Has Frank seen it yet?"

"No, he's still in the basement."

Worry lines wrinkled Fenton's forehead. "What's he doing down there?"

"Last I checked he was working the heavy bag again." Joe shared his father's worry. "He spends more time on the gym equipment we've got down there than anywhere else. I checked his room last night and he wasn't there. I could hear the treadmill going and it was almost two in the morning."

Fenton leaned his arms on his desk. "He's not sleeping?"

Joe shook his head. "I don't think he has since he came home, not really anyway. He's not taking the sleeping pills Dr Porter prescribed for him and I know he's not taking his pain meds either."

"That boy's going to set back his recovery if he keeps this up."

As Fenton started to rise from his chair, the intention of confronting his eldest obvious in his concerned features, Joe got to his feet as well.

"Dad, don't."

It wasn't the words that halted the man, but the tone in which they were uttered. They weren't pleading, or suggesting, but warning. The scowl that touched the boy's normally friendly eyes was totally unexpected.

"Right now," Joe explained harshly, "the last thing Frank need is a lecture about how he's dealing with everything; especially from you."

"What is that suppose to mean?"

Joe took a deep breath, visibly calming, and motioned to the leather sofa against the wall. When father and son were seated, he clarified. "I'm not an idiot, Dad. The tension in this house, since Frank came home, has been so thick I can taste it. I know things aren't all right between you and Frank."

Joe watched all expression slip from his father's face but the man remained silent.

"I may not know exactly what's going on," the boy continued, "but I can make a pretty educated guess. He's pissed at you. Hell, I think we all are, still, to some degree. Mom and I have forgiven you for your part in this, but that doesn't mean we're ever going to forget it."

That got a reaction. Fenton let an angry frown fill his features. "I can only say 'I'm Sorry' so many times, Joe."

"Oh, I know that!" Joe hurried to placate his father. "But think about it like this, Dad: Remember when I 'borrowed' your car to go see Iola when I was, what, fifteen?"

Fenton couldn't hold back the smirk at the memory. "You nearly wrapped it around a tree and put one hell of a dent in the front end."

"You got mad as hell at me and then you forgave me. But that doesn't mean that, even now, every time I ask to borrow your car in the back of your mind that memory doesn't weigh heavily in your decision."

"I suppose it does."

"Ever since we were kids, you've taught Frank and me that we could talk to you; that we could question you and confront you on things we felt you were wrong about. But now, I can't do that without thinking – even for just a fraction of a second – that you're not going to like what I have to say and hit me again."

Fenton blanched. "Joe, I would never-"

"And yet you did," the boy said gently and placed a hand on his dad's shoulder. "It was a bad situation, Dad, and you were in a bad state. We all were. I pushed when I should have pulled and I pushed to hard. It's totally understandable and why I forgave you for it that night.

"That's no excuse."

Joe started to laugh softly. "Dad, I'm not trying to get you to apologise again. I just want you to understand where Frank is at right now. Mom and I had more than a month to think things over; to calm down and realize that this was never your fault. Frank's only been dealing with it a couple of weeks, and you got to admit that he's got a lot more reason to be mad at you than Mom or I ever had. It's going to take a lot more time before he can start dealing with it. In the mean time, if taking his frustration out on the heavy bag, or running mile after mile on that stupid machine, helps him I say let him do it."

Nodding, his father sighed, "you're right." He looked to his son with admiring eyes. "When did you get to be so wise?"

A cheeky grin tugging at his lips, Joe shrugged. "What can I say? I'm more than just a pretty face! Besides," he added with a squeeze of Fenton's shoulder, "I've got a good role model."

--HBHBHB--

She'd gotten use to the rhythmic staccato coming from behind the closed door to the basement. Gertrude had been listening to her eldest nephew for several hours while she puttered around the kitchen. There were freshly baked muffins and cookies cooling on the baking racks; the silver had been newly polished and put away; the pantry reorganized.

Now, the older woman was settled at the table with a glass of iced-tea in front of her. Waiting.

So when the basement suddenly went silent, she was ready for it. She rose from her chair and retrieved a second glass from the cupboard. By the time the door opened Gertrude was setting the tea and ice filled glass on the table across from her own and motioning for the sweat stained boy to sit.

Frank eyed the drink and shook his head. "I really need to take a shower, Auntie."

"You need to sit," she replied sternly, but not unkindly, "and have a drink before you pass out from dehydration. Now sit, my boy."

She watched him carefully, noting the slight tremble of his hand as he ran it over his mussed hair before sighing and closing the distance to the table. He moved gingerly as he slid into the chair and a faint scowl of discomfort twisted his face before he schooled his features and accepted the offered drink.

"This came in the mail for you today." Gertrude slid the large, thick, legal sized envelope across the table toward the boy.

He caught it before it slid off the edge and frowned at the return address. With a shake of his head, Frank dropped it heavily onto the table between them. "Chuck it."

"So that's it?" She asked, fingering the lip of her glass before taking a sip of her beverage. "Everything you've worked for, everything you've dreamed of, just gets chucked out?"

Frank snorted sullenly. "It's not like I can go, now is it Auntie."

"And why not?"

"I'm not going to graduate, for one-"

"Only if you don't go back to school," she interrupted sharply.

"Right," the boy said, voice oozing with sarcasm. "I'm going to be able to catch up on all my classes with less than two weeks before finals."

"You're a smart boy, Frank. You could do it if you wanted to."

"Whatever," he sighed. "Besides, even if I wanted to it's a moot point. Mom and Dad aren't going to let me go now. Not in a million years."

She tilted her head curiously. "Do you still want to go?"

"That's not the point-"

"That's the only point." Gertrude moved her glass to the side and leaned forward, arms resting on the table's surface. "What do you want, Frank? Do you want to stay here, where it's comfortable, familiar… safe? Or do you want to get on with your life – the life you've been planning since you and Joe were children – and show those bastards that they didn't break you?"

A scowl distorted his face as he glared at her. "You think it's that easy?"

"I know it," she answered, unswayed by the look he gave her. "Yes, you were hurt in the most devastating way possible, and it's something that will be with you for the rest of your life. But you decide how much power it holds over you. And right now, my dear boy, it's got all the power."

"What the hell do you know about it?" Frank hissed cruelly, mimicking her by leaning forward in his chair. "You can't possibly know… I decide…? You get that from Dr Phil? Is that something you read in a book?"

She met his gaze, unwavering despite the shiver that ran up her spine at the animosity burning behind his once kind eyes, and spoke calmly. "It's something I've lived."

Frank rocked back in his chair as if stuck. All anger fled from his face as he looked at his Aunt. "I – I didn't know."

Gertrude waved a hand in the air dismissively and leaned back in her seat. "Why would you? I never told anyone."

"Dad?"

She shook her head. "It was while he was in the military. He still doesn't' know. He only knows that when he left, I was engaged to be married. When he came back, I wasn't."

He swallowed hard, eyes falling to the untouched glass before him.

"Date rape," she went on quietly, watching him as she spoke. "They have a name for it now. But in my day, it wasn't something that could be proved. It wasn't talked about. A victim suffered in silence. I was one of the lucky ones."

"Lucky?" Frank lifted his head and looked at her incredulously.

"Very lucky," she nodded. "I refused to be a victim. Despite Simon – my fiancé – despite his lies that I asked for it, that no one would believe me; despite every tactic he employed to try to control me, I told. I went to parents the day after it happened. They needed to know why I wasn't going to marry the son of a bitch anymore."

"What happened?"

She smiled wickedly. "You never really knew your grandparents, but your Grandpa Hardy had a terrible temper. I couldn't stop him from going after my former fiancé. Simon learned first hand exactly why you don't mess with a Hardy."

"And that was it for you?" Frank asked. "Grandpa beat the guy up and you were okay?"

Gertrude shook her head. "I wasn't okay for a very long time, but I was able to deal with it. Knowing that Simon hadn't got away with it, even though I never went to the police officially, helped but it was still hard. Sometimes it still is."

She reached across the table and placed a soft hand over his. "When I went to see you when you were in the Brooklyn Hospital; knowing what had been done to you, knowing what you would have to go through when you woke up, brought it all back. I'm not proud to say that I couldn't face it. It's why I came back to Bayport and why, even here, I couldn't visit you. Seeing you like that brought the nightmares back. I'm ashamed that I wasn't stronger."

Frank turned his hand beneath hers, squeezing it affectionately. "Joe and I may tease you, but you really are only human Auntie."

Chuckling warmly she smiled at her nephew. "And so are you, Frank."

The two remained in companionable silence for several minutes, taking comfort in each other's presence. After a time, Gertrude cleared her throat and took her hand from his.

"So what's it going to be, my boy?" She pressed her fingers on the envelope between them. "Victim?" She pushed the package toward him. "Or Hardy?"

Frank stared at the Oxford seal for a moment before reaching out and slipping the envelope from beneath his aunt's hand. "I'll think about it."

"That's all I ask." She picked up her glass and sipped at the remaining tea. "Now go take your shower, my boy. You're stinking up my kitchen."

A genuine smile touched his eyes and he nodded. "Thank you, Aunt Gertrude. For… trusting me."

Her eyes followed him as he stood and started for the stairs. "Oh, one more thing Frank."

He paused at the doorway and turned back to her, barely getting his hand up in time to catch the object that she had tossed at him.

"You may want to take these as well." Gertrude hid a smile behind her glass as she finished her beverage. "I found them in the trash can in your boys' bathroom while cleaning this morning."

Frank quirked an eyebrow at the familiar bottle resting in the palm of his hand. "Snooping, Auntie?"

"I leave that to you boys and your father. No, they were lying quite visibly on the top." She met his gaze again. "Dr Porter prescribed those pain pills for a reason, Frank. Allow your body to heal, and you'll be amazed at how quickly the rest of you will follow."


	23. After the Storm, Earth Hardens

**A/N: **

Alrighty... here we go. THE MUSE seems to be cooperating somewhat and I've been able to get things rolling again. I'll be able to update again next Friday and that should be the last chapter. An epilogue may, or may not, acompany it. But we'll have to see. Regardless of that, this seems to be the second last update for the story.

I'd also like to take this chance to thank ArgentSkye for her invaluable help with this chapter. It wouldn't have been writting if she hadn't been willing to toss ideas back and forth with me and play sounding board to THE MUSE. Thank you ever so much, hun!! Cookies for you!!

Thanks once again to everyone who's reading and has this story on alert. An even bigger thank you to those of you who have been leaving reviews!

Okay... on with the Chapter! Enjoy!

-Liz

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Three: After the Storm, Earth Hardens

"Give them a try now."

Frank took the thin black framed glasses from the lady behind the counter and slipped them onto his face.

"What do you think?"

Turning his head to the side, Frank peered at his reflection in one of the store's many mirrors.

It was a different man looking back at him, one he had come to expect since coming out of the coma but one that was still hard to recognize as the man he had become. The nose was perhaps a little more crooked, the hair a little longer than he was use to, the skin was definitely paler and he was significantly thinner. Still, he knew physically he looked much as he had before.

But the man in the mirror wasn't him.

It couldn't be.

That man was weak… useless… broken. Afraid of everything and nothing.

It wasn't who Frank Hardy was supposed to be.

"Looking good, Frank."

The boy blinked, caught his brother's eyes in the mirror and smiled. At least one thing hadn't changed. "Thanks, bro."

The sale clerk came out from behind the counter and adjusted the frames a little on his face. "Can you see okay?"

Frank looked around briefly before nodding. "Yea, they've really clear up the fuzziness." He tilted his head again then shook it. "Still can't see completely to the side, though."

The woman nodded. "The glasses will help with the blurred vision in your left eye, but I'm afraid the blind spot is not something glasses will fix. It may clear up on its own, along with the rest of the blurriness, as the optic nerve continues to heal. Come back to see me if you start getting headaches, the blurred vision gets worse, or better without the glasses."

The oldest Hardy boy nodded and glanced again at his reflection. "If it doesn't get better on its own?"

"The Ophthalmologist will probably want to re-examine the eye in twelve to eighteen months. If it's not showing any signs of repairing itself he might consider corrective surgery, but as it's the nerve that was damaged, and not the cornea or retina, your options are limited I'm afraid."

"That's okay, Frank," Joe said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "I've always said you were a nerd, and now you wear the glasses to prove it. Poindexter."

Frank rolled his eyes. "Funny man."

After thanking the clerk, the boys headed out into the mall.

"Quieter than I thought it would be today," Frank commented as they walked through the sparse shoppers.

"First really nice Saturday of the year?" Joe glanced around them, noting the lack of teens. "Most people are going to hit the beaches."

"Or be studying," the older boy amended. "Finals are coming up."

"You going to be ready for them?"

"I think so," Frank nodded. "I was able to catch up on some of the required reading the last two days and starting Monday Ms Walkens is letting me use the study lab in the library to work on my missed assignments."

"Right," Joe said as he remembered the recap of the conversation his parents had with the high school principal. There had been concern the older boy's return to the school would be overwhelming for him – with the gossip and whispers and everything that had happened since midterms – and the adults had come to a compromise acceptable to both Frank and his teachers.

"So where are we supposed to meet Biff and Tony again?" Frank stopped at a railing overlooking the center courtyard of the first floor. A faint ringing sound came from his pocket and reached into his jeans to retrieve his cell phone.

"Uh," Joe paused beside him. "The food court by the first floor theatre. I think."

"This is probably them, wondering where we are." The older boy keyed in a few numbers and accessed the newly received text message.

**Third floor. East wing mezzanine. 2 minutes. Alone.**

The words themselves weren't all that menacing; it was the image accompanying them that had Frank's stomach dropping as he struggled to keep the fear from showing on his face.

The picture, obviously taken with a cell phone camera, was a profile shot of Joe taken from a distance, only moments before as they had been walking. What was most disturbing was the sight of the gun barrel aiming directly at his little brother.

Feeling Joe tilting his head to see the message, Frank quickly snapped his phone shut. "Not them. Just an ad from the phone company."

"You still get those?"

"It's a new phone and number." He slipped the phone back into his pocket, hoping his brother didn't notice the slight tremble in his hand. "Old one was never recovered, remember?"

"Oh, right."

"Why don't you head down to the food court so the guys don't think we've forgotten them?"

The younger boy glanced curiously at his brother. "And where will you be?"

Frank motioned to a sign hanging from the ceiling near the opening to a narrow corridor. "I'll be right behind you."

Joe frowned. "I don't know…"

Pretending to be annoyed, all the while wanting to warn his brother of the threat, Frank rolled his eyes and started to walk away. "It's a bathroom, Joe. I think I'll be able to manage on my own."

"Yea," the blonde shook his head and pointed to the fading scar above his eyebrow. "That's what I thought too."

"Five minutes," the oldest Hardy boy glanced back at the youngest with a forced smile. "If I don't catch up to you in five minutes you can call out the national guard."

"Don't think I won't!"

Disappearing into the corridor, Frank only walked until he could no longer see his brother. He waited for a few seconds before cautiously peeking into the mall again. Joe was halfway to the stairs to the lower level.

Moving quickly, the boy ran back the direction they came and took the escalator stairs two at a time. His mind was trying to come up with the answer as to who had sent the text message, the not so little voice in his head screaming about how bad an idea it was to meet up with the unknown person. But the less than subtly implied threat to his baby brother kept his feet moving forward.

He shouldn't have been surprised, but seeing the well dressed man sitting standing there brought Frank to an abrupt halt.

Arms clasped casually behind his back, Etsuko Oonishi stood outside an empty store space, display windows and glass doors covered in thick paper, wearing what was to have been a warm and friendly smile. All Frank saw was the man responsible for his sleepless nights. "How kind of you to accept my invitation, Mr Hardy."

The sensation of someone coming up behind him drew Frank's attention to the bulky man that was now standing there. His heart was racing beneath his chest as he fought against his rising panic.

"Come," Etsuko gestured to open door, "Let's take this inside, shall we?"

The simple request sent a flare of rage through the eldest Hardy boy. "I don't think so." He took a step away from the imposing figure behind him, arms crossing over his chest as he kept his distance from both Yakuza. He glowered at Oonishi. "I thought it was over, Etsuko."

"Oh, I assure you," the man said indifferently. "Your debt to the Clan has been paid in full. You have nothing more to fear from them."

"Then why are you here?" Frank growled. "I would have thought a snake like you would have gone to ground with all the heat the cops and feds are throwing your way."

The gangster shook his head. "This is not a conversation to be had in the open, Frank – may I call you Frank?"

"No."

Etsuko's smile grew wider and he chuckled. "That is one of the reasons why I like you, Mr Hardy. Your tenacity. Most men allow me to call them anything I wished. Still, I must insist that we speak in private. That, is non negotiable."

Frank felt a vice-like grip on his upper arm. "Come on, Kid."

"_Sorry Kid, nothing personal."_

The familiarity of the voice silenced any protests he may have had. The presence of one of the three men, who had beaten him, sapped the last of his courage and he offered no resistance as he was led into the empty store and the door was locked behind them.

Driver propelled Frank forward, making the boy stumble over his own feet in an attempt to put more space between them. The man took up a sentry position in front of the door and Frank was relieved to see there was no one else inside.

Taking a few more steady steps, Frank turned to face Etsuko. "My father did what you wanted. He withdrew from the investigation. It's not his fault the cops are still after you. Killing me won't change that."

"I'm not here to kill you, Mr Hardy."

"Then what the hell do you want? What more could you possible to do me?"

Etsuko's smile returned. "I have watched the video record of your… penance perhaps several dozen times, and it never fails to amaze me."

Frank swallowed the sick feeling that began to overwhelm him and remained silent.

Etsuko continued. "My men's instructions were to break you, to make you beg for death. I had thought that it would have taken them only minutes to accomplish this; after all you had been injured in the fight against one of my finest warriors. But you held your tongue, taking the punishment and only succumbing when they were forced to resort to more barbaric measures."

"Do you have a point?" Frank hissed.

"Others have been where you were, Mr Hardy. Hardened criminals, soldiers, dangerous men and women who cried out for mercy long before you did. You are quite remarkable in that aspect, and not much more than a child.

"I have learned much about you. You and your equally extraordinary brother. From the work you've done with your father to the forays into the world of international terrorism and espionage. I must say, the fact that the Assassins hate you and young Joseph as much as they do is a testament to your prowess. I am most impressed, which brings me to the reason for this rendezvous."

"And that would be what, exactly?"

"I would like to offer you a job."

Frank blinked at the man. "What!?"

Etsuko shrugged. "In the time since we last spoke, many of my associates have been taken in to custody. I am in need of replacements and you have proven yourself to be an amazing creature. Your fighting abilities are quite impressive and your strength is to be applauded. Your youth would work well in your advantage as would you experience with law enforcement agencies from around the world. You could be a very wealthy man, Mr Hardy. I would see to that."

He was serious.

And that terrified Frank.

It meant Etsuko Oonishi was not going away.

His thoughts were interrupted by the trilling of his cell phone. The ringtone identified the caller to Frank but he made no move to answer it. He'd been gone longer than the five minutes he had told his brother and if he didn't answer Joe would start to look for him.

Except, he wasn't entirely sure if that was a good thing.

No one moved for several seconds and after a few more rings the phone went quiet as it went to voicemail. Almost immediately it started to ring again, the different ringtone signifying someone else trying to reach him.

_Biff or Tony, maybe…_

"It seems as though our time is at an end, Mr Hardy." Etsuko sighed in disappointment. "But that is all well and good. You will think about my offer. We'll discuss it again some other time. I'll be in touch."

And then he was alone.

He watched the door slowly swing closed, his heart thundering inside his chest as his phone continued to make noise. It beeped to let him know he have voice messages; beeped as he received several text messages; continued to alternate between ringtones as his brother and friends tried to reach him.

Several minutes passed, and only then was he convinced that Etsuko and Driver would not be coming back.

Falling to his hands and knees he retched. His body shook violently as his nerves rebelled against him. Angry tears burned his eyes, trailing beneath his glasses and down his face while his stomach proceeded to empty itself of all its contents.

Somewhere in his mind he realized that the empty space was quiet other than his ragged gasps for air. His phone had stopped ringing.

Crawling away from the mess, he found solace from the wall where he sat with his back pressed against it. He was weak, his body trembling as he retrieved the cell from his pocket. His breath hitched in his chest as he choked back the sobs, fingers clutching desperately around the small device.

He knew he should call Joe, let him know what happened and that he was all right. He hung his head, imagining how scared his brother would be feeling right now. And yet, he couldn't bring himself to dial the number.

They thought it was over.

It wasn't over.

It was never going to end.

It would never be okay.

"_I wasn't okay for a very long time, but I was able to deal with it. Knowing that Simon hadn't got away with it, even though I never went to the police officially, helped but it was still hard. Sometimes it still is."_

His phone vibrated against the palm of his hand when it started to play yet another ringtone; the theme of the Pink Panther.

"_So what's it going to be, my boy? Victim? Or Hardy?"_

Taking a deep breath, hoping to calm the tremors in his hands, he flipped the phone open and pressed it to his ear.

"Dad," his voice broke as he spoke, "I need your help…"


	24. Enter the Tiger's Cave

**A/N: ** I almost forgot to update! That's what I get for waiting for Friday and not updating when I had actally finished writing the chapter. At least it's being updated now. Not a lot to say this time, just still glad that everyone has been enjoying the story. I'm sorry it's taken so long to finally get it finished. More than a year! Yikes! Thanks to everyone who's been reading and those leaving the reviews. It means a lot that you like my stories.

Epilogue coming soon! For now, enjoy!

-Liz

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Four: Enter the Tiger's Cave

The sleek motorcycle roared down the empty alley, its headlight cutting through the darkness as it raced between warehouses toward the wharf. It was nearing midnight and the area of the city was practically deserted. The bike turned sharply as it was steered out of the alley and onto the street. Its rear tire spun out widely, but the driver was able to remain in control and the cycle leapt forward.

Joe was normally the speed demon, but Frank was finding the breakneck pace distracting. It kept the reason for his late night excursion at the back of his mind. At least for a few seconds more.

They were early.

Ahead he could see the sleek town car parked near the pier, its occupants standing beneath a lamppost midway out on the wharf. Instinctively he slowed the machine beneath him, easing it to a stop next to the car.

The nagging doubts he'd had the entire ride came crashing over him with force. It was too soon, he wasn't ready for this. But when Etsuko had texted him with the time and place for another meeting – accompanied yet again with another visual threat to his family, this time his mother – he knew he had no choice. It had to be now.

Turning the motorcycle off, pocketing the keys in his leather jacket, he lifted the helmet off his head and hooked it over the handlebars. Straightening the glasses on his nose he slid from the bike and walked out onto the pier.

He watched the trio waiting on the wharf watching him as he approached, once again feeling his breath catch in his throat when he recognized all of them. Fighting past the nausea he suddenly felt, Frank wouldn't allow himself to show any hesitancy to the men standing there.

"Again, you accept my invitation!" Etsuko exclaimed happily.

The boy stuffed his hands in his pocket and stopped a distance from the three men. "You made it perfectly clear it would be in my mother's best interest if I didn't decline."

"And you didn't tell anyone you were coming here?"

"Do you see anyone else?" Frank snorted and shook his head. "After my disappearing act at the mall last weekend, do you really think my dad and brother would let me out of their sights? I had to sneak out of the house after they thought I'd gone to bed."

The mobster spoke in Japanese to Driver and the other man started toward Frank. "Then you will allow me to ensure this conversation is kept private."

Frank took an involuntary step back when Driver approached. "You think I'm wearing a wire?"

"Just a precaution, Kid," Driver reached out quickly and snagged the leather of Frank's jacket in his fist. "You understand."

Pursing his lips and willing his racing heartbeat to slow, he directed his murderous glare at Etsuko as Driver's hands were searching his body. His jacket was taken off and handed to the third man, the cool air blowing from off the water biting through his thin t-shirt. The man didn't bother searching it, just started for the edge of the pier.

"Hey!" Frank shouted, understanding what was intended. "The jacket cost me a small fortune!"

"A small pittance to what you will be paid if you accept my offer," Etsuko dismissed his protest.

"At least let me have my keys, wallet and phone before you toss it."

The man looked to Etsuko as the gangster considered it. "The keys and wallet you may have. But the phone can easily be used to record this conversation."

"You've got to be kidding me," his groaned in frustration. He watched as the items were taken out of his pocket, then the jacket and the rest of its contents were tossed over the railing and into the waves below.

"Kid's clean," Driver said when he'd finished patting the boy down. He caught the keys, followed quickly by the wallet, from his partner as they were tossed his way. After a thorough inspection, he then held them out for Frank.

"I'm not an idiot," he murmured and snatched his belongings from the man's hand. Tucking them into the back pockets of his jeans, he regarded the Yakuza leader. "Satisfied?"

"Shoes please, Mr Hardy."

"Oh, for gods sake," He grumbled, leaning over to slips the shoes from his feet. "Next you'll want me to take the fillings from my teeth." Shaking his head at the absurdity of it, he chucked the runners over the railing.

Etsuko chuckled. "Again, you surprise me. I appreciate the situation is not one you are comfortable with, but I am impressed that you have remained in control of yourself. It's admirable, really; one of the many traits that will make you a fine addition to the clan."

"I haven't agreed to anything, yet," Frank growled. "Think of this as a negotiation."

"You believe you have something worth negotiating?"

"Absolutely." Frank allowed a sly smirk to play on his lips. "My brother."

Surprise registered on Etsuko's face for a brief second before his expression was once again impassive. "Your brother? And why would he be of interest of me?"

"I believe 'Extraordinary' is the word you used to describe us. If you think I would be an asset to your organization, imagine what both of use could do for you."

"And you think he would join us?" Oonishi didn't bother attempting to hide his intrigue. "Willingly?"

"If you know us as well as you think you do, you know we're more than just brothers." Frank strode forward, closing the gap between him and the gangster. "He's my partner. I'm good, but working together we're even better. Except he doesn't have much in the way of brains; he's the brawn of our partnership. He'll do what I tell him to do. Always has."

"And what would you require in return, Mr Hardy? Money, women," He gestured to Driver and the other man with a victorious sneer, "My associate's heads on a platter?"

"Money. You said you'd make me rich-"

"Beyond your wildest dreams!"

Frank chuckled grimly and shook his head. "I have pretty wild dreams. I want a third."

That wiped the smile from Etsuko's face. "Third?"

"A third. Of everything you make here in the US."

"And why would I pay you that?"

"Because after everything your goons did to me, do you honestly think anyone would suspect me of working for you?" Frank shrugged and slipped his hands into his front pockets. "My father's military connections, his connections with the government, not to mention Joe's and my own friends in government and other acquaintances across the globe. There's a lot I can offer you, Etsuko, beside my fighting skills and muscles."

The frown on the gangster's face was not as hard as before. He was obviously considering what Frank had just told him. "This is something I cannot decide on my own. You understand, don't you Mr Hardy?"

He nodded. "Of course. You've got your own bosses to answer to. You can contact me again – without the threats to my family – and we can meet again. Perhaps next time you won't feel the need to toss a five hundred dollar leather jacket into the ocean."

Etsuko smiled. "I think we have come to an understanding now, don't you Mr Hardy?"

"Call me Frank."

The smile grew wider.

Frank had him. "There's just one question I'd like answered before I go."

"Of course."

He took his hands out of his pocket and crossed his arms over his chest, glaring fiercely at the man. "If you were going to watch the video your thugs made, why did you leave? Why not stick around for the live show?"

"I had accomplished what I was there for," Etsuko answered casually. "There was no point remaining for the grim finale. In all honestly, I have a very weak stomach for violence."

"Didn't seem to stop you when you put a bullet in that guy's head."

Etsuko shrugged. "I did what had to be done. You had defeated my best fighter and the others needed to be reminded what the price was for failure."

"So you admit you killed the guy I fought."

"Yes, I-" Etsuko frowned. "If I did not know better, Frank, I would think you were fishing for evidence against me. But as it has been proven, you are not wearing a wire…"

Squealing tires and flashing lights had the three yakuza snapping their heads back toward the street as a half dozen police vehicles drew up onto the scene. At once the doors opened and the uniformed officers had their weapons trained on them. Several more shadows popped up on the roof of the warehouses in the immediate area.

"There are other ways to listen to a conversation," Frank took another step forward, bringing his fist around in a vicious uppercut to Etsuko's chin. The gangster dropped to the ground daze. "Especially if you have access to parabolic microphones."

The third man growled and leapt at the boy. "You're a dead man!"

"Frank, down!"

Hearing his father's shout, Frank went down to one knee as a shot rang out. The man crumbled, the body falling against him and knocking him the rest of the way to the ground.

In seconds, the pier was swarming with cops as Driver and Etsuko were taking into custody. Fenton pushed his way through the chaos and was pushing the corpse off his son, a combination of concern and relief filling his features.

"Are you all right?"

He was suddenly very tired, but with his father's help was able to get to his feet. Frank nodded weakly and leaned against Fenton to keep his weary legs beneath him. "Did you get it?"

His father smiled. "Every word. You did it son."

What little strength he had remaining was suddenly gone and only a strong arm around his waist kept him from falling. Gently, he was guided to the planks of the wharf.

"Whoa, easy there Frank." Fenton kept a comforting hold on his shoulder as the older man turned his head to the organized chaos. "I need a medic over here!"

Frank shook his head, lifting his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. "No, I'm okay. I'm just a little…overwhelmed I guess."

"Doesn't hurt to get looked over." Fenton crouched beside his son. "You're still recovering."

"Frank!"

Letting the frames fall back into place, the older boy looked through the milling cops and saw his brother following the medic toward him. "I'm all right, Joe."

The paramedic, a young woman probably on a few years older than him, set her case next to him and offered him a reassuring smile. "Do you mind if I check a few things, just to make sure?"

He nodded and she went about checking his vitals.

"You sure you're okay?" Joe asked, sitting on the pier beside him.

Frank chuckled. "Yea, Joe. I'm fine."

"Good." The blond affectionately bumped his shoulder against Frank's. "Then I can kill you for loosing my jacket."

"I'll buy you a new one," Frank smiled, holding his arm out for the medic as she put a blood pressure cuff on his bicep. "It's the least I can do. After all, this crazy stunt was all your idea."

"So I guess I'm not just the brawn of the partnership, hmm?"

"Sorry about that," he said sheepishly.

With the sound of tearing Velcro, the medic removed the cuff. "Heat rates a little higher than I'd like, but I think it's given. Are you feeling and tightness in your chest, shortness of breath? Anything like that?"

Frank shook his head. "Just feeling like I have slept in a week."

"Try two weeks," Joe muttered.

Smirking at the brothers' banter, the woman put her equipment back into her kit. "You're probably coming down from an adrenalin high. Sit tight for a few more minutes before trying to move, but otherwise I think you're good to go. You can relax, it's over now."

"Thank you," Fenton nodded his appreciation as the woman stood then walked away.

Frank looked down the pier to where Etsuko and Driver were being loaded into separate squad cars. The third man – the one that had held him in place while Driver had beaten him – was laying on a gurney and being zipped into a body bag.

"Is it?" he asked no one in particular. Feeling his family's eyes on him he looked at Joe then turned to his father. "Is it over? The Yakuza… they're not going to want retribution for this, are they?"

"I wouldn't think so." Fenton shook his head, the hope that he wasn't lying to his son evident in his eyes. "When this all started, it was message to me."

"The rest was because of the drugs they lost when I turned them over to the feds."

"Isn't the Yakuza big on honour and stuff like that? We've got the evidence that proves that Etsuko went back on his word. That's pretty dishonourable" Joe reminded the two older Hardy's. When they looked at him with questions in their eyes he shrugged. "The video… you can clearly hear Etsuko say that if Frank beat that thug he could leave. Frank obviously won the fight…"

The rest of what he was going to say trailed off, not needing to be said. They were all well aware of what happened after that.

Frank felt the familiar flutter of fear and loathing that came with the memories of that night, but now they were just that. Flutters. It didn't feel as though the world was crashing around him anymore.

A grin found its way onto his lips as he turned to his baby brother. "Definitely not just the brawn."

Fenton chuckled as his youngest blushed. "I'll talk to Doug. He can put the word out that the Hardy Clan was getting retribution for the dishonour to one of our own. I think they'll keep their distance now."

"Yea," Joe agreed fiercely. "They'll have learned their lesson."

"And what lesson is that?"

"Don't mess with a Hardy."

A smirk touched the Hardy Clan patriarch as he found his eldest son's gaze. "How did it feel?"

"How did what feel?"

"Slugging that son of a bitch!"

Frank sighed contentedly as Joe burst out laughing. "Good, Dad. It felt damn good."


	25. Let Flow the Water

**A/N: ** Well, this be it, ladies and gents! This is all she wrote. She, being me! I had a blast writing this, and a great time reading your reactions and reviews. I know I lost a few readers with the direction I took it, so for those of you who stuck around I hope you enjoyed it. Thanks for keeping with it and for keeping me inspired to finish it.

Not much else to say except until next time my bébés...

-Liz

* * *

Epilogue: Let Flow in the Water

_Two Months Later…_

The zipper strained to keep the suitcase closed, even with Frank's weight pushing down on it. Callie pulled at the slider, and he chuckled as he finally had to lift himself off the floor to kneel on the case. "Just what have you packed in here, Cal?"

Laughing with him, she finally succeeded in closing it. "Clothes." He snapped a small padlock through the slider, locking the suitcase closed. "A few books, some CDs, a couple of photo albums, all the things I'll need for dorm life at Cornell."

He glanced at the four other large suitcases and nearly a dozen boxes waiting near the door to the girl's bedroom. Frank sat on the edge of the bed next to the suitcase. "Are you sure you need all of this stuff?"

"It looks more than it is," she explained. She slumped onto the mattress as well, leaving the case between them. "Besides, not everyone gets to go to another country and buy all new stuff for their _flat_ on campus."

Leaning back on his elbows, Frank shook his head. "It's going to be a very empty flat. Rent alone is £600 per month, plus bills and taxes."

The girl turned her head to look at him. "Which is how much U.S. dollars?"

"All together, anywhere between twelve and fifteen hundred dollars."

"Yikes."

"Yea. Mom and Dad say they're cool with it, but that's a lot of money." He sighed, eyes downcast as he stared at a piece of lint on the knees of his jeans. "Except, I don't know if I could do this if I had to share a place. Especially with guys I didn't know."

Concern crinkling her forehead, Callie laid on her side with her elbow bent and her hand propping her head up. "Give yourself a little credit, Frank. Look at everything you've accomplished. You caught up with your classes and aced every last exam. All the while planning a sting with your father and the government to get that psychopath behind bars-"

"Where he was promptly murdered by the people he worked for."

"You didn't do it."

"Wish I had."

That stunned her a little, but she shook her head. "No you don't."

He chuckled grimly. "No, I really don't. Why is that again?"

She smiled softly. "Because you're an incredible guy and an amazing human being."

Crimson rushed to his cheeks and he finally looked away from the fascinating lint. Turning his head to the side he regarded the girl beside him.

Through everything, Callie Shaw had been as much a source of strength for him as Joe was. After he'd woken up she still came every day to see him. Even at his lowest she was there, no expectations, no preset ideas of how he should be acting or feeling. She had just been a friend and he found himself confiding in her things he hadn't ever intending on discussing with anyone other than his shrink.

She had been the one who convinced him to talk to Joe; to share with him his nightmares and waking fears. Joe hadn't pushed the issue, but Frank was aware that his silence with his brother was hard for the other boy to accept.

Together, it was the pair of them that finally got Frank reconsidering Oxford and then making the decision to go.

He blinked, bringing himself back to the moment, grateful that Callie was comfortable to let his mind wander without pressing him. With a sigh, Frank reached out tentatively and brushed a strand of her hair from her forehead. "What time do you leave in the morning?"

A warm, soft smile tugged the corners of her lips at his touch. "We'll be loading the car tonight and we're on the road by seven at the latest."

He nodded, bringing his arm back to his side. "You're still okay with Joe and me coming up for the Labour Day weekend?"

"You better!" She scowled playfully. "I won't be able to make it back when you fly out in October. That, by the way, is a really weird time to start the school year."

Frank chuckled again. "Yea, Joe had a hard time wrapping his head around that as well. I just had to remind him that fitting an entire semester course load into eight weeks is going to be hell. Do that three times during their academic year, add in a full summer semester at the University of London…"

"You'll do fine," Callie assured him with a confident smile. "You always do. Do I need to remind you everything you've done again?"

He just smiled and shook his head. "Nah. I'm good. I'm actually looking forward to the challenge."

She crooked an eyebrow in question. "Just the challenge?"

"Going somewhere where the whole Yakuza thing wasn't broadcast across the country is just the icing on the cake."

"Right."

A comfortable silence fell around the two as they just stared at each other. Once again, Frank felt an overwhelming appreciation for Callie. And he felt it time to have a conversation they'd been putting off for far too long.

"Cal," he began cautiously. "What is this?"

"This, what?"

"This. Us." He sat up again and she followed suit.

"We're friends." Her head tilted to the side as her eyes narrowed slightly in confusion. "At least I hope we're friends."

"I'm sitting in your bedroom at-" he glanced around her at the clock on her nightstand, "- nearly eleven at night helping you pack for University. I'm planning on coming to see you in two weeks, we're making plans for Christmas, you're flying to England for Spring break and then again with Joe for six weeks in the summer. That sounds suspiciously like more than just friends."

Her sigh was sad but her eyes were still bright and warm. "Frank, you are my best friend. You always have been and hopefully you always will be."

Beneath his chest, his heart skipped a beat. "But…?"

She blushed, looking away from the intensity of his gaze. "I still love you, Frank. I never stopped."

He suspected as much, but to actually hear it was somewhat overwhelming. "Cal-"

"I know it can't happen, Frank!" she exclaimed in a rush, not hearing him when he had tried to speak. "After all we've talked about, everything that's happened, I can't possibly expect you to just be all 'I love you too, let's get back together'. I'd never do that to you. But I can't say it hasn't crossed my mind-"

With a gentle touch, his hand covered her mouth. "Callie, you're rambling."

"Sorry," she mumbled, embarrassed, against his palm.

Moving his hand to rest against her cheek, Frank laughed softly. "I still love you too, Callie."

It was her turn to swallow. "But…?"

He met her warm, honey brown eyes and affectionately stroked her face with his thumb. "I'm about to put the _pond_ between us, it doesn't make much sense for us to try does it?"

Her head shook lightly.

"Besides," Frank admitted as he brought his hand back to his lap. "I don't think I'm ready just yet."

Callie nodded in understanding.

"So you're going to go off to University in Ithaca, no strings, no promises. You're going to go out with your dorm mates, you're going to join a sorority, meet interesting people, and have fun. And if you happen to meet a guy who makes you happy-"

"I already have, Frank." A mist of tears glistened at the rims of her eyes. "I made the mistake of letting you go once, I'm not about to do it again now that I know there's a chance for us. I'm going to be waiting here for you every time you come home. Just don't go meeting some British tart, you got me?"

Snickering, the boy nodded. "I don't think there could be anyone else for me but you, Cal."

"Good." She sniffled, blinking back the unshed tears before they had the chance to fall. "So we're friends."

"More than friends," he amended.

"But not quite boyfriend, girlfriend."

"That sounds… confusing." He shook his head. "I don't think it's going to work."

Callie looked crestfallen for a second before he was reaching across the suitcase between them and taking her hand in his. "We can take it slow – I mean, with an entire ocean between us it's not like we can just jump right into things again. I want you to be my girlfriend, Callie."

Frank pulled at her hand gently, urging her to lean toward him as he inclined toward her. "Because I would really, really like to kiss you right now."

The feel of their lips was light, feathery. Unsure of how he would react to such an intimate touch, neither had proceeded with much vigour. After a heartbeat, realizing he wasn't going to break, the embrace intensified.

And as they kissed, Frank knew.

He would carry it, everything that began with that stormy spring night, for the rest of his life. He would remember and he would have to deal. Some days would be easier than others. Some days would be impossible.

But he wasn't going to be a victim.

He was, after all, a Hardy.


End file.
